


Fireflies

by carolinecrane



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-05
Updated: 2010-09-05
Packaged: 2017-10-11 14:45:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 28,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/113560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carolinecrane/pseuds/carolinecrane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU.  Greg's a first-timer at Camp Chinibi in Wisconsin.  He's also nursing some grief over the loss of someone close to him.  Nick's a counselor with a soft spot for weird, sort of mopey kids from California.  The odds are stacked against them, but that just makes it more fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fireflies

_Camp Chinibi, near Wolf Lake, Wisconsin, Summer 1989_

No doubt about it, this was going to be the worst summer of Greg's life.

He let out a sigh and dropped his duffel bag on the nearest empty bunk, looking around at the wood plank walls and the narrow bunks lining both sides of the cabin. When he'd chosen summer camp over tagging along to Berkeley with his parents it had seemed like a smart idea. Spending a summer on a college campus while his father did the whole writer-in-residence thing sounded pretty good in theory, except that his mother was going to be there, and that meant being dragged around San Francisco to every museum and department store she could find. There was no way she'd leave him to his own devices, which meant zero chance of meeting any cute college guys.

At camp at least he'd be around other kids, with no parents in sight. So he'd pretended to be psyched about the chance to spend a summer in the wilderness, swimming in the lake and roasting marshmallows while somebody played lame camp songs on a guitar. Leave it to his mom to find the only work camp in the country that relied exclusively on teenage labor. And the crazy thing was that his parents were _paying_ for him to spend the entire summer as a slave.

When she'd told him where the camp was he'd almost changed his mind. As soon as he heard the words 'Wolf Lake' his chest had tightened and he'd had a little trouble catching his breath. He'd wanted to say no, that he'd rather spend the summer in San Francisco no matter how many museums it meant. But there was a part of him -- the masochistic part, apparently -- that wanted to come back here, to smell pine needles in the summer air and watch fireflies at night and remember what it used to be like.

Which was how he found himself in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, at some camp his mom had gone to back when it was still an all-girls camp. Greg had a feeling she hadn't even bothered to read the brochure detailing what went on in this place now; she was probably too busy walking down memory lane to even notice she was sentencing her only child to hard labor.

The cabin door slammed and Greg looked up, nodding at a kid about his age. He was wearing gym shorts and a t-shirt with the name of a high school printed on it, and he had on socks pulled up to his knees and a pair of sneakers. _Jock,_ Greg thought idly, leaning back on the cot to watch the kid choose a bunk and set his stuff down. "Hey," the kid said. "I'm Chad."

"Greg Sanders."

"I haven't seen you before," Chad said. "This your first year?"

"Yeah," Greg answered. "My parents needed a place to dump me for the summer, so they chose prison camp."

Chad laughed and started unpacking his bag, tossing clothes on the mattress next to him. "I've been coming here since I was ten. It's pretty fun if you give it a chance."

"Really? Chopping down trees and building barns is your idea of a good time?"

"Well, the barn was already built when I got here. The rest of it's not so bad, though. Trust me."

_Not in this lifetime,_ Greg thought as he watched Chad-the-Jock unpack another pair of sneakers and what looked like a stopwatch. He looked down at his board shorts and his Vans and his 'Frankie Say Relax' t-shirt and sighed. It was going to be a long summer.

~

By the time the last bus pulled out of camp and headed back to civilization, there were seven other guys in Greg's cabin. Most of them already knew each other, so he laid on his bunk and listened while they all traded stories about what happened last summer and who'd talked to who during the school year. Most of the talk was about which girls had come back this year, who'd gotten better-looking and who was fatter. By the time lunch rolled around they'd started taking bets on who was going to score first, and Greg was sort of glad they were pretending he wasn't even in the room.

He tagged along behind them as they made their way toward the dining hall, mostly because he wasn't exactly sure where it was. The conversation had shifted away from girls, at least, and Greg started when he heard Chad say his name. "Hey Greg, you play basketball?"

"Not really," Greg answered, pretending he didn't notice the looks on his cabin mates' faces. "My friends and I are mostly into skateboarding."

"Skateboarding? Where are you from?"

"California," Greg said, glancing at the kid who'd spoken to him.

"Well, that explains the hair, anyway," another one said, and Greg ran a hand over the side of his head that was shaved close. His friend Wendy did it for him; she'd experimented with putting some lines in this time, and he'd thought the result looked pretty cool. His cabin mates obviously didn't; they all looked more or less like clones of each other, with their Nikes and gym shorts and their standard jock haircuts.

"Yeah, what's with the shirt?" one of the guys said, and Greg glanced down at the large black letters printed on his white t-shirt.

"It's a band. Frankie Goes to Hollywood, you know?" Greg said.

"Oh, yeah, my sister listens to those guys," Chad said. "They're a bunch of fags, aren't they?"

And there was the word he'd been bracing himself for since the jock patrol started trickling into the cabin. As soon as Chad said it they all tensed, and Greg knew that was it. Chad might as well have said, "That makes you a fag, doesn't it?", because they all knew that's exactly what he'd meant. Greg should have known it was coming; it wasn't like this was the first time Greg had been in Wisconsin. Except that all his other visits were spent at Papa Olaf's cabin on the lake, fishing and listening to stories about the old country. There weren't many other kids around then, and he hadn't missed them because he'd had Papa Olaf to hang out with.

His throat started to tighten and he squeezed his eyes shut against the memory. _Not thinking about it,_ he instructed himself silently, squeezing his eyes even harder, but somehow trying not to think about it seemed to make the memories come on even faster. What did jolt him out of the sudden rush of emotion was colliding with something solid, and Greg's eyes snapped open as a hand landed on his arm and he heard a deep voice say, "Whoa, you gotta watch where you're going, man."

All the blood in Greg's body rushed to his face, and he mumbled a 'sorry' as he looked at the person he'd collided with. He was a few years older than Greg, with dark hair and wow, a really solid chest, and when Greg realized he was still sort of pressed against it he scrambled backwards.

"Sorry," he said again, louder this time, blushing even harder when he glanced into the dining hall to see his cabin mates looking back and shaking their heads at him.

"No harm done," the guy in front of him said, drawing Greg's attention back to him, and okay, it turned out there _was_ some blood that hadn't rushed to his cheeks, and it was busy rushing to an even less convenient part of his body. He'd heard the expression 'a smile that could light up a room' before, but he'd always assumed it was just one of those bullshit ideas somebody made up for romance novels. This was his first time actually seeing one of those smiles, and as soon as it faded he found himself thinking about what he could do to make it come back. "Hey, man, you okay?"

"Yeah...I...I'm fine," Greg lied. He wasn't fine; he was so far from fine it wasn't even funny, but if he admitted why he'd been walking with his eyes closed he was just going to start bawling like some homesick baby, and there was no way in hell he was letting that happen in front of this guy. Not to mention the entire camp, most of whom had already filed into the dining hall while he was standing there staring at the Greek god he'd managed to collide with.

"First time at camp?" said Greek god asked, not even waiting for a denial and okay, now Greg felt like an idiot _and_ a big baby, but he thought it might be kind of worth it, because there was that smile again. "Don't worry about it, you'll get the hang of it pretty quick."

"Thanks," Greg said, and God, could he sound like more of an idiot? "Uh."

"I'm Nick," the Greek god said, clapping a broad hand on Greg's shoulder and he was _not_ thinking about what that hand would feel like on other parts of him, because he hadn't managed to humiliate himself completely just yet, and he'd just as soon get through one day at this place before everyone at camp knew what a total loser he was. "I run the baseball program, so if you need to talk you can usually find me out at the field. Do you play?"

It took a few seconds for Greg to register that Nick-the-Greek-god was a counselor, and that he was offering to let Greg cry on his shoulder about being homesick or whatever. It took a couple more seconds after that for him to realize that Nick had asked him another question, and when he finally realized the guy was waiting for an answer he blinked and erased any doubt that he was the biggest moron in the history of, like, _ever_. "Huh?"

"I asked if you play baseball," Nick said, grinning now and God, that sparkle in his eyes was still sexy, even if it was only there because he was totally laughing at Greg.

"No, I mean, I've never tried," Greg stammered, face going redder every second and he was pretty sure he was going to burst into flames in a second. Which, at least, would have the benefit of making him stop talking.

"Well, the great thing about camp is it lets you try out new things. Never know, you might enjoy it." Nick grinned again, and then -- get this -- he actually _winked_. Greg didn't even know people did that in real life, but it had just happened to him, and he...kind of liked it. He couldn't even say why, and if Wendy ever found out she'd laugh until she pissed her pants, but something about being the complete focus of this guy's attention made Greg's insides heat up. "Practice starts tomorrow at 2:00. Maybe I'll see you there."

"Yeah, maybe," Greg murmured as Nick flashed one last grin and then turned and headed into the dining hall. For a few seconds he just stood there on the top stair and stared at the screen door, but when he heard footsteps behind him he shook himself and followed a group of giggling girls inside. One thing was for sure: There was no way in hell he was showing up for baseball practice. He'd already humiliated himself in front of Nick enough for one lifetime, and he sure as hell wasn't going to sign up to do it again.

~

So it turned out that Greg didn't really have a choice about the whole baseball thing.

Well. He had a _choice_, sort of, if you count 'you're playing a team sport whether you like it or not, so pick one' as a choice. Which seemed pretty sadistic to him, considering they spent their mornings doing forced labor and they got maybe an hour after lunch to themselves before they had to show up at whichever field their 'chosen' activity took place. Then there was running and yelling and God, so much sweating, and by the time they were released they barely had a chance to clean up before dinner.

Greg was starting to get the impression that the whole point of this camp was to beat any teenage rebellion out of them by wearing them out so thoroughly they just dropped at the end of the day.

He knew it was certainly making him appreciate his parents a lot more, or it would be if they weren't the ones who'd exiled him to this torture in the first place. Then again, they'd given him the choice to go to Berkeley, so maybe they didn't know what they were getting him into. Maybe if he wrote a letter to his mother telling her what happened at this place, she'd rush to the airport and catch the first flight to Wisconsin. Or she'd just call it 'character-building' and tell him to suck it up, Greg thought, letting out a weary sigh when he heard his name being called.

He climbed off the bleachers and headed toward home plate, and despite the fact that he sort of wished he were dead right now, his stomach still did a little flip when Nick-the-Greek-god looked up from his clip board to grin at Greg. "Hey, man, nice to see you decided to come out."

Greg blushed at the unfortunate choice of words as he reached for a bat and stepped up to the plate. He cleared his throat and lifted the bat up to his shoulders the way he'd seen the kids before him do it, then he glanced over at Nick and blushed even harder. "I'm telling you, I have no idea what I'm doing here."

"You're doing fine," Nick said, but he set his clip board down and walked toward Greg. Greg's stomach did another somersault when he realized what Nick was doing, but before he had a chance to drop the bat and run for it, Nick's hands were on him, moving his elbow further up into the air and adjusting his hands on the bat. He used a foot to kick Greg's feet a little further apart, and Greg cursed teenage hormones when his whole body reacted to the idea of Nick's thigh pressing between his. And that wasn't bad enough, of course, because Greg hadn't actually thrown up yet or anything, so of course Nick had to lean in and murmur, "keep your grip up, right by your ear. Yeah, there you go. Eye on the ball, and when it feels right, swing."

Later Greg wouldn't be able to say what kept him from dropping the bat. His hands trembled against the wood, knees wobbling too and if Nick noticed, Greg hoped he'd assume Greg was just nervous about sucking at baseball. Which he did, of course. He struck out three times in a row, swinging wide every single time and catching air long after the ball had zoomed right past him into the catcher's mitt. Not that he'd expected to hit one out of the park, but even a foul ball would have been better than the total humiliation of looking up to find Nick grinning at him.

"Good effort, Sanders."

"Give me a break, I suck at this," Greg said as he moved out of the way for the next batter.

"You just need a little practice, you'll get there," Nick said, clapping a hand on his shoulder for the second time since they'd met, and Greg's knees wobbled for a completely different reason this time. If this was one of those movies he and Wendy sometimes caught on the channels that were supposed to be scrambled on her parents' cable, this would be the moment Nick's voice dropped and he offered to give Greg private lessons. But if this was one of those movies, they wouldn't have an audience of twenty other kids, every single one of them witness to Greg's humiliation. He was pretty sure Nick couldn't read his mind, but he wasn't going to swear to it when Nick grinned again and gripped his shoulder a little tighter before he shoved him in the direction of the bleachers and looked back down at his clip board.

"Roberts," Nick called out, and a tall, athletic-looking blond stood up and ran down the bleachers past Greg.

It was official: Greg hated his life.

~

_They make us play sports,_ Greg wrote, squinting in the dim light of his bunk. _Can you believe that? And here I thought it was bad enough my parents were shipping me off to do manual labor, but they make sure to throw in a little humiliation for good measure._

He knew he wasn't going to get any sympathy from Wendy. If she even bothered to write back it would just be to mock him for being such a girl. Which was easy for her to say, because she was hanging out by her parents' pool all summer with the rest of their friends while Greg suffered alone in the middle of nowhere. She'd sworn before he left that this was the summer she was going to get Archie to stop making out with his skateboard long enough to notice her, so Greg knew she had her work cut out for her. But it made him feel better to write it all down, and anyway he figured if he actually dropped dead from heat stroke or exposure or something, at least she'd know why.

And even if Wendy managed to get Archie's attention, he wasn't going to ignore his board completely. In fact, he and the rest of the guys were probably scouting the whole of Orange County right now, figuring out which yards had empty pools and when their owners wouldn't be around to bust them for sneaking in to skate. If Greg was there he'd be in charge of keeping the list of addresses and hours they were least likely to get caught, and he'd be the one figuring out how to sneak in without getting attacked by a surprise dog or spotted by the neighbors.

If Greg was there he might even be able to clue Archie in to the fact that Wendy was seriously into him, but even if he did she'd probably just end up sitting around watching them skate, and Greg knew how long Wendy would put up with that. He grinned at the thought of her spending her summer sneaking into people's back yards to sit by an empty pool when she could be in her own back yard in her bikini. What she didn't realize was that if she could just convince her old man to drain their pool, she'd have Archie's undivided attention -- or at least his company -- for the entire summer.

He filed the idea away for when he got home, just in case Wendy didn't manage to catch Archie's attention before then. No reason Greg should miss out on an empty pool they didn't have to trespass to use, after all. He sighed and tossed his pen down on the mattress, shoving the letter out of the way and rolling onto his back to stare up at the bottom of the bunk above his. There were tons of initials carved into the wood, some of them with a plus sign and another set of initials below them. A few ambitious former campers had even gone to the trouble to carve lopsided hearts around the initials, and a few people had carved 'Jimmy was here' or the date instead of just settling for their initials.

Greg, on the other hand, didn't really feel the urge to leave a record of his incarceration. He wasn't that interested in remembering a summer of backbreaking labor or sweat dripping in his eyes, blisters on his palms and sore muscles from proving over and over again that he sucked at baseball.

His only real consolation was that the rest of the guys in his cabin signed up for basketball, so at least none of them were around to witness his humiliation. Mostly they just pretended he didn't exist, and that was fine with him. In fact, if the other campers weren't staring at his hair, they mostly just looked right through him. Greg didn't care much; he had plenty of friends at home, and if fitting in around here meant dressing and acting like the clones in his cabin, he'd rather just spend the summer being invisible.

Then again, the whole reason he'd signed up for baseball instead of basketball or God, football -- and who played football in the summer, anyway? -- was because he knew there would be one person there who wouldn't treat him like he didn't exist. And Nick definitely noticed him, but they'd had three practices so far and every time Greg failed to suck less, Nick treated him a little more like a cute kid. Like he was so much more mature than Greg, just because he worked here instead of being sent here against his will. He probably wasn't even that much older that Greg. He'd just turned sixteen, and Nick couldn't be more than twenty.

Not that he'd actually _know_ or anything, since they hadn't had a single actual conversation. At the most he got a smile -- and okay, the smiles alone were worth putting up with the rest of it -- a few pointers about his stance or his swing, and a pat on the shoulder when he failed to connect with the ball every single time. The shoulder pat thing was probably supposed to be sympathetic. Mostly it just felt like pity.

Greg rolled his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face, closing his eyes before he opened them again to stare up at the sea of initials above him. He looked at them without really paying attention, until his gaze landed on a familiar name carved into the wood about halfway down the bed. Greg sat up to get a better look, reaching up to run his fingers over the letters scratched into the wood: _Nick was here 1986._

It wasn't like Nick was such an uncommon name, Greg told himself. Dozens of Nicks had probably passed through here, maybe even more. But this Nick was just here three years ago. He'd slept in this same bunk just three years ago, gotten bored enough one day to leave his mark just like hundreds of kids before him. It was probably some completely different Nick that Greg had never even laid eyes on. If Nick really was twenty, that would have made him seventeen three years ago. Still young enough to be a camper, but just barely. A lot of the junior counselors were seventeen, at least according to the guys in his cabin. So the chances of these initials being carved by the same hand that had warmed Greg's shoulder barely an hour ago were pretty slim, but it made him feel a little better to pretend that he was lying on the same bunk _his_ Nick had slept in, just for a little while.

~

Greg spent the first week of camp just trying to survive, scowling his way from one activity to another and collapsing in his bunk whenever the sadists the place called 'counselors' would leave them alone for five minutes. He didn't even try to make friends, mainly because he didn't have the energy. Plus there was the fact that every guy in his cabin was some kind of pod person, like they'd all been manufactured in some factory where the only setting was 'obnoxious jock'.

By the second week his blisters had stopped hurting so much, but he knew it would take awhile before they hardened over into calluses. It made swinging the baseball bat a lot harder, but he didn't complain because every time he stepped up to bat and at least tried, Nick rewarded him with a smile that would fuel his fantasies for months. Not that he actually got any privacy in this place to _do_ anything about his fantasies, but he was willing to admit that he was pathetic enough to keep thinking about Nick long after he'd left camp behind.

Their mornings were spent on whatever work project their cabin happened to be assigned to. The first week Greg's cabin met up with one of the girls' cabins, and they spent the hours between breakfast and lunch in a clearing in the blazing sun, moving rocks and fallen tree limbs and cutting through scrub brush in an attempt to blaze a new trail into the woods. It wouldn't have been so bad if they'd actually gotten to work _in_ the woods, but four hours of standing in the sun meant they all sweated through their sunscreen before the first hour was up, and every one of them had a sunburn by the end of the second day. If any of his friends could see him they'd all laugh and call him a pussy, and he wouldn't blame them. He was from Orange County, for fuck's sake, he knew how to avoid a sunburn. Then again, in California he wasn't forced to work in the sun until his back ached and his eyes were stinging with sweat.

He followed the rest of the cabin to breakfast on the first day of the second week, dragging his feet and trying not to think about the torture that was ahead of them. They got to take Sunday off from all their activities, but all the break did was remind Greg of how hard they'd been working every other day since he'd been here. Plus, he didn't get to see Nick, unless he counted a brief glimpse across the dining hall, but Nick was sitting with whatever cabin he was in charge of, laughing with the guys and not even glancing in Greg's direction. So no, that definitely didn't count.

"Listen up, guys," Greg's own counselor, Warrick, said as soon as they were all settled at their table with their trays of rubbery eggs and orange juice. "We're starting a new project today. There's a spot in the woods on the way to the lake that needs clearing and leveling so we can rebuild the outhouses down there. We're gonna be cutting down trees and stacking a lot of lumber to haul back to camp. Anybody who brought work boots gets a chance at swinging an axe. If all you've got is sneakers you're stuck on stacking duty. Camp rules, and I don't want to hear any bitching," he added when a few of the guys grumbled protests.

Greg didn't have a pair of work boots, but right now that was the last thing on his mind. His brain was still stuck on the word 'lake', hands shaking a little as he picked up his orange juice to hide the fear he was sure was written all over his face. Some of the guys from his cabin headed down to the lake whenever they got the chance. The first time they'd even invited him along, mostly because Warrick was standing there watching them at the time, but he'd just grunted an excuse about being too tired and turned his back to them to stare at the wall, and they hadn't asked again. It was easy enough to avoid having to tell them the truth about why he didn't really want to go to the lake during their free time, but this...this he couldn't get out of.

He followed the rest of his cabin out of the dining hall after breakfast, and if he dragged his feet a little more than usual, nobody noticed. They turned right and followed the path that would take them down to the lake. Almost immediately the woods got thick enough to block out the early morning sun, and Greg let himself enjoy the cool, familiar calm of the woods and tried not to think about where they were headed.

Twenty minutes later they still hadn't reached the lake, but Warrick stepped off the trail anyway and into a clearing where a bunch of other campers were already waiting. The girls they'd worked with last week were there, along with two more cabins and their counselors. They couldn't see the lake from here, and Greg let out a relieved sigh when he realized they wouldn't be going all the way to the water. For once he was glad the rest of his cabin was ignoring him, because it meant he didn't have to explain to anyone why he probably looked like he was about to lose it.

A service road ran behind the clearing on the far side, and Greg watched a tractor roll down the road and pull up next to them. The door opened and Greg forgot all about the lake as he watched Nick step out. He was wearing a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a gray t-shirt with the Texas A&amp;M logo on the front. A pair of white tube socks were pulled up over his work boots, and when he turned to talk to the other counselors Greg saw a red bandana hanging out of his back pocket. If Wendy were here she would have described him as 'walking porn', and Greg wouldn't have argued. He swallowed hard and tore his gaze away, glancing around to make sure no one had seen him staring. As usual, the rest of the campers were ignoring him, and Greg stole another glance toward the counselors just in time to see Nick clapping Warrick on the shoulder.

"Listen up, guys," Nick said, turning toward the crowd of campers clustered around. "Everybody with work boots, over here. Sara will get you set up with axes and saws and make sure you know how to use them." Nick gestured toward one of the female counselors, and Greg looked over at a pretty brunette in time to see her wave at the crowd. "Anybody without the right foot gear, steer clear of the tools. We're not messing around about this, guys. This is a dangerous project, and we picked your cabins because you're the oldest and you know when it's not okay to screw around. This is one of those times. Got it?"

There was a murmur of assent among the campers, which seemed to satisfy Nick, because he nodded. "Good. So if you're not cutting down trees or chopping wood, you're stacking it in neat piles over here by the tractor. We'll load it up and haul it back to the camp as we go." He stopped talking and scanned the crowd, his mouth quirking into a slight smile when he caught sight of Greg. "Sanders, you're with me. Everybody else, pick a spot and let's get started."

Greg's heart pounded against his chest as he made his way through the crowd to stop next to Nick. He had no idea why Nick had singled him out; maybe it was just because he'd seen how uncoordinated Greg was with the baseball bat, and he wanted to keep him far away from the axes. If that was the reason it was fine with Greg; this whole slave labor deal would be a lot more tolerable if it meant he got to hang out with Nick.

"Hi," Greg said when he reached Nick, and at this point Greg was so used to sounding like a moron around him that he didn't even wince.

"Hey, Greg," Nick said, grinning that amused grin that made Greg's insides turn to liquid. But it didn't last long; Nick looked him up and down, smile fading as he took in Greg's appearance. "Where are your gloves?"

"I don't have any," Greg said, and as soon as he did he knew it was the wrong answer.

"What, you mean you left them in your cabin or something?"

"No, I mean I don't have any," Greg answered. "I didn't know I was supposed to bring any."

"They were on the list of things you were required to bring," Nick said, like they'd been frisking people at the entrance to camp or something. "Work boots aren't required, but everybody needs gloves. What did you do all last week?"

Greg shrugged, wishing suddenly that he had pockets to shove his hands into. And either Nick was a mind reader or he caught the way Greg's hand sort of twitched at his side, because all of a sudden he was reaching out and taking Greg's hand. It was kind of weird, standing there in front of all those people, holding Nick's hand. Well, more like Nick was holding his hand, turning it palm up and frowning down at the blisters that hadn't quite healed.

"You've been working like this all week?"

"It's no big deal," Greg lied. The truth was that it hurt like a son of a bitch, but he wasn't about to go crying to his counselor about it like some pussy.

"Christ, Greg, and you tried to play baseball like this too? No wonder you can't hit the side of a barn."

"Thanks," Greg said, but Nick didn't laugh. In fact, Greg was pretty sure Nick hadn't even heard him. He let go of Greg's hand and stepped around him, and Greg barely had time to frown and turn toward Nick before he heard Nick calling someone's name.

"Hey, Rick, come here a second."

Warrick looked up from the group of campers he'd been organizing, frowning and crossing the clearing to stop in front of Nick. "What's up?"

"You tell me, man. You've been letting the guys in your cabin work without the proper equipment?"

"What?" Warrick said, frowning and glancing over Nick's shoulder at Greg. "Sanders? So he doesn't have boots. I wouldn't let him near an axe even if he did."

"He doesn't have gloves either," Nick said, and Greg's cheeks burned at the anger in Nick's voice. "His hands look like hamburger, man. What the hell were you thinking?"

Greg wasn't positive, but he was pretty sure he saw Warrick roll his eyes. "Jesus, Sanders, when I asked if you guys had all your equipment you told me you were good."

Greg wasn't sure if he was supposed to answer, but before he had a chance, Nick answered for him.

"You're supposed to make sure they've got the right equipment," Nick said, and Greg didn't miss the way he shifted until he was standing a little further in front of Greg. "That means actually looking, and paying attention when you're on site to make sure everyone's _wearing_ their gloves."

"Give me a break, Stokes. Just because you're a junior overachiever doesn't mean the rest of us don't have better stuff to do with our time. He's not a baby, he doesn't need me to wipe his nose for him. Anyway, if his hands are that bad he should have gone to the nurse. I would have left his ass back at the cabin if he'd said something. The kid never talks, what do you want me to do?"

Nick looked for a minute like he was going to tell Warrick exactly what he should do, but all he did was shake his head and turn back to Greg. "Come on," Nick said, shoulders tense as Greg followed him back to the tractor. When they got there Nick pulled the door open and rummaged under the seat for something, eventually producing a metal box with a red cross on the top. He pulled gauze and antibiotic cream out of the first aid kit, then he turned to Greg and gestured toward his hand. "Come on, let's see."

Greg held his hand up, watching the way Nick's jaw clenched while he spread the cream on his blisters and then pressed a gauze pad over them. He wrapped Greg's hand in more gauze, fingers rough against Greg's skin. When he finished the first one he let go and reached for Greg's other hand, jaw still clenched as he repeated the process all over again.

"Look, I'm sorry," Greg said. "I didn't know I was supposed to wear gloves, I swear."

Nick let out a heavy sigh and glanced up at Greg, and when he smiled sort of sheepishly Greg's heart actually skipped a beat. "It's not your fault, Greg. It's Rick's job to make sure you guys are safe while you're working. This camp is a great opportunity to see just how far you can push yourself, and it's not a bad way to pick up a few useful skills. But if you're not prepared, some of the jobs can be pretty dangerous. If you can't handle something, you've got to tell somebody, okay?"

"I can handle it," Greg said, pulling his hand out of Nick's as he finished wrapping it.

Nick smiled again, amused this time, and pushed the first aid kit back under the seat. "I'm sure you can," he said. He picked up something else from between the tractor seats and pressed it into Greg's chest. "Here, wear these. It's my spare pair, you can hang onto them."

Greg reached up automatically to catch whatever Nick was handing him, frowning as he looked down at a pair of worn leather work gloves. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Nick said. "And don't think those hands of yours are getting you out of work. Now put them on and come help me start loading the trailer."

~

It took just under three hours to fill the trailer. When it started to look like it might actually sink into the ground Nick swung the gate up and slid the lock into place, then he turned to grin at Greg. "What do you say, feel like riding back up to camp with me?"

"Are you serious?" Greg asked, and when Nick laughed he found himself grinning. He climbed into the tractor next to Nick and settled into the passenger seat, holding on to the side of the tractor as they lurched forward.

"You realize this means you're helping me take it all back off the trailer when we get there, right?"

And okay, maybe Greg hadn't thought this through all the way, but if it meant getting to hang out with Nick some more, he wasn't going to complain. They'd been working side by side all morning, stacking the wood the other campers brought them into neat rows on the trailer. His back ached and he was sure he'd never be clean again, but every once in awhile Nick would look over and grin at him, and every time Greg would forget about how sore he was.

"I think I can handle it," he said.

Nick grinned and cast another sidelong glance at him. "How are your hands?"

Greg shrugged and looked down at the leather gloves he was still wearing. "Not bad. A lot better with the gloves than without."

"Funny how that works," Nick said, laughing when Greg scowled at him.

They rode in silence for a few minutes, Nick watching the road as the tractor rattled slowly back toward camp. Greg tried his best not to watch Nick, at least not enough to get caught doing it. It was hard not to keep stealing glances at him, though, watching a bead of sweat roll down his forehead or the way his t-shirt clung to his back.

"Is that where you go to school?" Greg asked, nodding toward Nick's chest.

Nick glanced down at the logo on his shirt, then he looked back up at the road. "Yeah. Well, I start in the fall."

Starting in the fall...that meant Nick was younger than Greg had guessed.

"Yeah? So you just finished high school?"

Nick glanced over at him and smiled. "Class of '89. Can't say I'm going to miss it much. So what about you, G? You're in Rick's cabin, that makes you...what? A sophomore?"

_G_. It was a new one for Greg, but he couldn't say he hated it. At least not when Nick said it, grinning at him like...like they were friends or something. Greg did his best to tamp down the stupid grin he knew was plastered on his face. "Technically. But I'm enrolled in mostly junior classes next year. I'll probably finish a year early."

"Oh yeah? So you're some kind of genius?"

"I don't know if I'm technically a _genius_," he said. "I think there's a test for that or something."

Nick was still grinning, staring out the windshield and Greg forgot that he wasn't supposed to be staring. He traced the line of Nick's jaw with his eyes, noting the faint shadow of stubble and wondering what it would feel like to run his finger along Nick's cheek. Nick's thumb tapped against the steering wheel like he was keeping the beat to some song only he could hear, and Greg had a flash of Nick's hands on his own, calluses rough against Greg's skin as he cradled Greg's hand and carefully wrapped his blisters.

When Greg looked up again Nick was watching him, still smiling but softer now, like he knew exactly what Greg was thinking about and he didn't really mind. "So do you want to tell me why you don't want to be here?"

And okay, not what he was expecting. Not that he was expecting some kind of romance novel moment or anything, but given the choice, he knew which one he'd go for. Greg shrugged and looked out the window again, watching the woods thin out as they got closer to camp. "It's not...this just isn't really my scene."

"What, hanging out with a bunch of kids in the woods, no parents in sight? That's not your scene?"

Greg rolled his eyes and did his best not to smile. "You fail to mention the forced labor and the mandatory team sports."

"You want out of baseball?" Nick asked, and when Greg ventured a glance at him he wasn't laughing. "All you have to do is say so, man. You could try swimming, you might like that better."

Greg just shook his head and turned back to stare out the window some more. "I'm not much of a swimmer."

If Nick could tell he was lying, he didn't call Greg on it. Instead he pulled up to the barn at the edge of camp and turned off the tractor motor. He turned in his seat so he was more or less facing Greg, and if he wasn't busy trying to...like, _psychoanalyze_ Greg or whatever, it might have been kind of hot.

"Listen, Greg, I know you're from California and it's probably pretty weird, being dropped in the middle of Wisconsin. Hell, it was pretty weird for me when I first came up here from Texas. But if you give it a chance, you might actually have a good time."

"I'll keep it in mind," Greg said, hand on the door to let himself out of the tractor. And he wasn't sure there were any documented cases of people dying of humiliation, but if it was possible, he was going to do it.

"Hey."

A hand landed on his arm, stopping him before he got out of the tractor. Greg hated himself a little for enjoying the heat of Nick's skin against his own, and when he looked back over his shoulder his stomach twisted at the look in Nick's eyes.

"If you need to talk, I'm around."

"Thanks," Greg mumbled, shoving the door open just a little harder than necessary. When he was out of the tractor he blinked hard against the stinging in his eyes, telling himself it was just sweat that was making them burn.

~

It could have been weird, after that. Maybe it would have been, if Greg was dumb enough to think anything could happen between them. But he knew his luck, and his luck did not hand him guys like Nick Stokes and a free pass to live out his fantasies in the middle of nowhere with more or less zero parental supervision.

Still, it should have been weird. Nick might as well have patted him on the head and called him 'kid' after the speech he gave Greg. Greg could have spent the rest of the morning brooding, licking his wounds and proving to Nick that he really _was_ some little kid. And okay, maybe he'd been a little quieter than usual while they unloaded and stacked the wood next to the barn. But it was hard work, so he figured he had an excuse to save his breath for once.

After lunch Warrick made him stay behind while the rest of the guys went back to the cabin, then he dragged Greg over to the infirmary building. And if they'd mentioned there was a nurse on the premises Greg missed the memo, but he wasn't all that sure he would have gone to see her even if he'd known. "It's just a few blisters," he said as Warrick pushed him through the door into the small cabin that served as the infirmary. "No big deal."

"Let's let the expert decide that," Warrick said, and when Greg looked up at him he'd turned on a thousand-watt grin that sure as hell wasn't directed at Greg. It wasn't like he could blame Warrick; the nurse was pretty, and when she looked up at them Greg could see that she knew it.

"Hello, boys. What can I do for you?"

"Hey, Tina. Looking lovely as ever."

Greg tried not to roll his eyes while Tina beamed up at Warrick. For a minute he thought they might just forget he was there altogether, but finally Warrick turned and gripped him by the shoulder to drag him forward. "Got a rookie with blisters. Can you check them out, make sure he hasn't done any permanent damage?"

Tina flashed one last smile at Warrick before she stood up and came around the desk, motioning for Greg to take a seat on the cot pushed against the wall. He held out his right hand and she examined the wrapping, smiling at him as she glanced up. "Looks like someone's trying to steal my job. Did you do this yourself?"

Greg shook his head, willing himself not to remember the look in Nick's eyes when he first saw Greg's hands.

"Stokes did it," Warrick answered for him, and Tina glanced over her shoulder at the edge in his voice. "Probably trying to earn another merit badge."

Tina smiled and turned back to Greg, unwrapping the bandage as she spoke. "Well, he did a good job. Let's see what the damage is."

He sat on the edge of the cot and tried not to fidget while she removed both bandages and cleaned up what was left of the antibiotic ointment. He tried not to wince when she cleaned the open blisters with alcohol, then applied more ointment and fresh bandages. When she was finished she straightened up and smiled at him. "Just keep them clean and you'll be fine in no time. You can come by after lunch every day and get fresh bandages until they heal. And don't let them work you too hard out there; if you don't give them time to close up they'll just keep reopening all summer long."

"Thanks," Greg said, frowning down at his bandages as he imagined going back to California wrapped up like a mummy.

He waited around while Warrick flirted with Tina some more, then let Warrick lead him out of the infirmary and back toward the cabin. "You want to bail on your activity today?" Warrick asked, voice gruff and when Greg glanced at him he could have sworn he saw a challenge in Warrick's eyes. "I can tell Stokes you're taking it easy for awhile."

For a second Greg considered it. A whole afternoon to himself in the cabin was tempting, even if he'd spend the whole time too worried someone was going to walk in to take advantage of it. But if he bailed then Nick would just think Greg was avoiding him, using a couple blisters as an excuse to hide out and feel sorry for himself. He shook his head before he even realized he'd made up his mind. "No, I'm good."

Warrick didn't smile, exactly, but something in his expression changed. Like Greg had passed some kind of test, maybe. "Good. And Sanders, next time you hurt yourself, just tell me. It's no hardship to visit Nurse Tina, if you know what I mean."

Greg laughed when Warrick winked at him, then took off toward the basketball court to meet the rest of the cabin for practice. Greg watched him go, then he sighed and turned in the direction of the baseball field.

~

He held his breath as he walked onto the field, trying his best not to keep stealing glances over at Nick. Except it turned out he didn't need to waste his energy, because as soon as Nick spotted him he called him over.

"Here," Nick said, handing him another pair of gloves, white this time and made of a softer leather than the work gloves Nick had loaned him earlier. "These are my old batting gloves. They'll make it a little easier to hold the bat while you're waiting for your hands to heal."

He glanced at Greg's bandages, then back at Greg's face. "You sure you're up for this?"

"I'm fine," Greg said, a little too defensively. He forced himself to relax and looked down at the gloves in his hand. "Thanks."

"Good." Nick clapped him on the shoulder once, then turned to face the rest of the players already sitting in the bleachers. "Listen up, guys, I think we're ready to play an actual game. We're going to split up and pick positions, then we'll run through the rules for those of you who've never played before. Roberts and Simpson, you guys are our captains. Everybody else, we're going to count off, one, two, down the line, and whatever number you get, that's your team."

Greg took a seat as Nick made everyone count off, then they split into two separate groups and their captains assigned everyone a position. Greg ended up out in right field, which was no big surprise. It wasn't like he blamed them; he hadn't exactly proven himself to be a natural or anything. Besides, being stuck way out in the outfield meant he wouldn't have to pay much attention to what was going on in the game, which meant more time to stare at Nick and wonder why exactly he'd taken such an interest in the weird kid from California everyone else at camp ignored.

He got his chance at the start of the first inning, because the other team batted first. Greg dutifully trudged out to right field and took his position, keeping one eye on the game in case anybody actually hit the ball past home plate. It was hard to focus, though, Nick was standing right down the first base line, eyes on the game and t-shirt hugging his muscles in all the right places. Greg felt for the batting gloves in his pocket and thought about Nick's hands in them, fingers wrapping around the bat and probably hitting it out of the park. Greg bet he was the star of his high school team. He was probably one of those guys everybody at school worshiped, but he was so damn _nice_ that he made it impossible for guys like Greg to hate him.

He'd always really hated those guys.

The sound of a bat cracking brought him back to what he was supposed to be doing, and Greg turned in time to watch the kid in center field catch an easy pop fly. "Great play, Rogers," Nick shouted. "Alright, inning over. Let's change it up."

And it turned out the batting gloves really did make a difference. Not that Greg was suddenly hitting them over the wall -- if there was a wall, or even an end to the outfield that wasn't defined by more than the grass getting a little taller -- but it was a lot easier to grip the bat the way Nick had showed him when he wasn't wincing constantly at the pain in his hands. He still struck out, but he actually managed to catch the edge of his third pitch and send it into foul territory. The smile that got him from Nick was worth every second he'd spent on the baseball field humiliating himself, and he found himself grinning back like the rest of the players weren't even there.

"Good effort, G," Nick said as Greg walked past him, and there was that hand on his shoulder again, sending a rush of warmth to Greg's extremities. If he had any shame at all he'd be embarrassed about how easy he was, but he could barely remember his name when Nick looked at him like that, let alone his dignity.

"The gloves helped," he said, still grinning like a moron.

"Maybe, but you're putting in the effort to improve. That's the important thing."

He could have stood there all day, grinning at Nick like he was the best thing Greg had ever seen. And maybe he would have, if one of the guys from his team hadn't jogged past him on his way to first base.

"Nice hit, Sanders," he said, and before Greg recovered enough to say 'thanks' he was already gone. Still, it was the first time any of the other players had even acknowledged that they knew he was on the field, so he figured it was a good sign. He jogged out to right field and took his position, tucking Nick's batting gloves carefully into the back pocket of his jeans before he slid his mitt on. When he glanced toward first base he found Nick looking right at him. As soon as their eyes met Nick laughed and shook his head, turning back to whoever was up to bat. Greg swallowed hard and tried to focus on the game. It was a losing battle.

~

Greg wasn't counting on having Nick all to himself again the next morning. He wouldn't let himself count on it, because he didn't want to spend his entire morning looking like a kicked puppy when Nick inevitably chose somebody else to help him load the trailer. Except when his cabin arrived at the clearing there was Nick, leaning against the trailer like he was...waiting. As soon as he saw Greg he motioned him over, and Greg's heart beat double-time in his chest as he crossed to the tractor and stopped next to Nick.

"What do you say, want to give me a hand again today?"

"Sure," Greg said, but all he could think was, _God, yes, whatever you want._

Nick rewarded him with a grin, and Greg reached for his work gloves and tugged them on so Nick wouldn't see him blush. It was stupid, he knew. Chances were the only reason Nick was even being nice to him was because he felt sorry for Greg. He probably thought of Greg as some misfit loner, his project for the summer. Draw the weird kid out of his shell, help him fit in; he probably picked a different kid every summer, and Greg was just the latest in a string of projects. Still, there was something about the way Nick looked at him, like he didn't even know he was doing it. Greg knew it wasn't going anywhere -- he was kind of a genius, after all -- but he wasn't above enjoying it while it lasted.

They filled the trailer a lot faster the second morning, and only two hours had passed by the time they climbed into the tractor and started up the service road. Greg knew it would take a lot less time to unload on the other end if they brought some of the other guys with them, but he was glad Nick never mentioned it. It meant he got to bask in Nick's undivided attention all the way to camp and back, not to mention the time it took them to haul the wood off the trailer and stack it against the barn.

"So did you play baseball in high school?" Greg asked, studying Nick's profile as he drove them slowly up the service road.

"Yeah," Nick answered, glancing over at him long enough to grin. "That's how I got my scholarship to A&amp;M."

Greg pictured Nick in those tight pants baseball players wore and bit down hard on his lip. "I guess that's why you carry batting gloves around with you."

"Yeah, and those are my lucky gloves, so I want them back at the end of the summer."

"I'll guard them with my life." Nick smiled again and Greg grinned back at him.

"What about you?" Nick asked as he slowed down to avoid bottoming out in a dip in the road. "What do you do for fun back home?"

"My friends and I skateboard a lot. Sometimes I do a little surfing too."

"I thought you said you weren't much of a swimmer."

Greg felt his cheeks heat up and he glanced out the window so he wouldn't have to see Nick's suspicious expression. "I didn't say I _couldn't_ swim."

He could feel Nick looking at him, felt his cheeks burning hotter with each passing second, but he kept his focus resolutely on the woods rolling slowly past them. After a full minute passed with no answer Greg thought they might just spend the rest of the ride back in silence, but finally Nick spoke. "You're a weird guy, G."

Greg's lips twitched in spite of himself, and when he ventured a glance toward the driver's seat he found Nick studying him with an intense expression. Like he was trying to figure something out, and Greg wasn't sure what, but he definitely wasn't complaining. "Yeah, I get that a lot."

~

It didn't take nearly as long as Greg would have liked to unload the trailer and head back to the woods. He was selfish enough to want all the time alone with Nick he could get, even if they spent most of it making small talk about Nick's batting average or Greg's advanced Physics classes. Not that school was exactly Greg's first choice of subjects, but it didn't really matter when Nick looked at him like he actually cared what Greg had to say.

They loaded the trailer even faster on the second run, thanks to the fact that Warrick and a couple of the other guys helped. It meant Greg didn't get Nick all to himself, but it also meant they were back in the tractor and pulling onto the service road even sooner than he'd hoped. By the time they unloaded the tractor and headed back down the morning was almost over, and when they reached the clearing for a second time, everyone else was already gone.

"Guess they decided we weren't coming back," Nick said, grinning at Greg as they climbed out of the tractor.

Greg shrugged as he looked around at the clearing. The woods were still and quiet, no sound except for the rustling of leaves in the breeze and the occasional call of a bird up in the branches. If this was a movie, now would be the point where he'd turn to find Nick standing right behind him, and as soon as their eyes met Nick would lean in and then they'd be kissing and tearing each other's clothes off. Greg blushed and turned around, flinching when he found Nick standing...well, pretty much right behind him.

He was smiling that smile of his, the one that made his eyes kind of scrunch up and his dimples stand out in sharp relief. His head was cocked to the side a little like he was trying to figure something out, and for a split second Greg thought he might actually lean in and kiss him. He started to sway forward, but before he could make a complete idiot of himself Nick took a step backwards. "What do you say we take a quick detour down to the lake? I could use a quick dip."

The lake. Of course, the first chance they got to be alone with zero chance of interruption, and Nick wanted to go down to the lake. Greg's first instinct was to say that no, he really didn't want to go down to the lake, and what was so great about it, anyway? But before he got the words out Nick hooked his thumbs in the hem of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head, and Greg forgot how to talk.

He forgot how to do anything except stumble through the woods after Nick, watching hard muscles move under tan skin and wondering if he was ever going to find out what Nick's skin would feel like against his. The answer was no, obviously. Nick was from Texas, for one thing, and he was a nice guy, sure, but he was also a totally oblivious jock, and he had no idea what a cock tease he was. He couldn't, because if he did there was no way he'd be torturing Greg this way. Unless this was all some elaborate game of 'torture the homo' and Nick had gotten the short straw this summer. Which, if Greg stopped to think about it, would have been the most likely explanation, but there was no way he could think when Nick was standing at the edge of the woods in nothing but a pair of cutoff jeans and his work boots.

As soon as the sun hit his eyes Greg realized where they were, and he dragged his gaze away from Nick's chest long enough to look at the lake. It was big; so big you couldn't see the other side, but Greg didn't need to see it to know what it looked like. He'd spent plenty of summers on the north side of the lake, fishing or swimming or just lying on the dock watching clouds roll by. He'd never seen it from this angle before, but it still felt like home all the same. Greg swallowed hard against the sudden lump in his throat, blinking against the sudden stinging in his eyes and hoping Nick would think he was just squinting against the sun.

A loud splash broke the stillness and Greg blinked again and focused on the water just in time to see Nick stand up, dripping wet and, like, _glistening_ in the sunlight and if Greg hadn't thought of him as a Greek god before, he sure as hell would now. Nick was...perfect was the first word that sprang to mind, and Greg was pretty sure if he didn't choke on his grief, he would have a heart attack just from watching Nick standing thigh-deep in the water.

"You coming in?"

He didn't want to. The last thing Greg felt like doing was going swimming. What he wanted to do was sit down and cry, maybe, or just start running and not stop until he'd made it all the way around the lake, to the little house on the other side that he knew better than anywhere else except maybe his house back in California. But Nick was standing there grinning at him, and there was no one else around, and this was probably the closest Greg was ever going to come to getting this close to him while he was...well, partly naked.

He kicked off his sneakers next to Nick's work boots, socks tucked inside to keep them from getting wet. Then he peeled off his shirt and dropped it next to Nick's before he stuck a foot in the water. "Jesus, it's cold."

Nick laughed and sank back down into the water, floating on his back as he watched Greg gingerly picking his way over the soft soil at the bottom of the lake. "You just gotta go for it, man. All at once, like pulling off a Band-Aid."

Greg rolled his eyes, but he moved a little faster, gritting his teeth against the change in temperature until he was far enough in to dive under. As soon as his head was under the memory of a dozen summers before this one came rushing back, of that first dive into the lake and the shock of just how cold the water was. Somehow he always expected it to be warmer, and every year he'd come up yelling about how cold it was. Papa Olaf laughed every time and reminded him that he was a spoiled California kid, that the lake would toughen him up and he should shut up and just let his body get used to the water.

He resurfaced with a gasp, grateful for the water dripping down his face so Nick wouldn't notice if there was a tear or two mixed in with the lake water. Nick who was right in front of him, and he hadn't planned that, but his heart skipped a beat at the way Nick grinned at him. As soon as he saw Greg's face his smile faded, though, and Greg tried and failed to school his expression into something at least slightly less pathetic.

"Greg? What's the matter?"

Greg shook his head and turned around, gliding through the water toward shore until it got too shallow to swim. He stood up and walked back to shore, dropping on the sand near their clothes and wiping a hand across his face. Nick was right behind him, still looking like some kind of statue come to life as he stepped out of the lake and Greg cursed himself for blowing what had to be the closest to a real life wet dream he was ever going to get.

Nick dropped onto the ground next to him, but he didn't say anything. He didn't grasp Greg's shoulder or put a comforting arm around him or any of those things that would make Greg feel like an even bigger baby even while he was trying not to enjoy the fact that Nick was touching him. Instead he just sat there with his arms around his knees, leaning into Greg's space without actually touching, and that was even worse.

For awhile Greg just stared out across the lake, wondering how long Nick would sit there before he finally gave up and went back to camp. "My grandfather's cabin is on the other side of the lake."

"Oh, yeah?" Nick said, and even without looking Greg could feel those eyes on him. "You planning to see him while you're here?"

"He died last year."

Nick did touch him this time, a warm, wet hand landing on his shoulder and just resting there. He didn't say 'I'm sorry' or any of the bullshit stuff people say when somebody dies. He didn't try to hug Greg or make him talk about it, but he left his hand on Greg's shoulder, thumb moving in little circles and Greg hated himself a little for being turned on while he was bawling his eyes out over his dead grandfather.

"It's just weird, you know? I've been to this lake, like, a million times. I used to spend every summer with Papa Olaf, and now here I am again, and it's still the same, but it's totally different." Greg let out a shaky laugh and ventured a glance at Nick. "I guess I was expecting everything to change when he died. Like maybe the lake would dry up or something. Stupid, huh?"

"It's not stupid," Nick said. He squeezed Greg's shoulder one last time and let go, fingers sort of trailing down Greg's back like he didn't even know he was doing it. Greg shivered at the touch and did his best not to move so Nick would keep doing it, but a second later Nick's hand was gone and Greg was left feeling wet and a little cold. "I mean, not like I'd know or anything, but it seems like something should change when you lose somebody, right? It's gotta be weird, coming back here and not having him here."

"Yeah," Greg said, turning his head to give Nick a tight-lipped smile. It didn't even come close to saying what he wanted to say, but he figured when Nick smiled back that he understood anyway. "I just miss him."

Nick nodded and rested his arms on his knees again, looking out across the lake in the direction of the north shore. "Was your grandfather Olaf Hojem, by any chance?"

"Yeah," Greg said, surprise making him forget the ache in his chest for a second. "How'd you know that?"

"I met him once," Nick said. "You know how he used to sell those carvings of his over at that little general store north of here? All those little bears and deer and wolves...well, I guess I don't have to tell you."

Greg grinned when Nick laughed. He couldn't count the number of nights he'd spent sitting on the porch with his grandfather, watching Papa Olaf's knife glide expertly through the wood until an animal began to emerge. He'd tried to teach Greg a few times, told him that the key was to find the animal inside the wood and then just take away the parts that didn't belong. All Greg managed was a few mangled hunks of wood and several nicks on his fingers before Papa Olaf declared him a danger to himself and took the knife away. After that Greg contented himself with watching Olaf work his magic, but the carvings he had at home in his bedroom were some of his most prized possessions.

"Anyway, I caught a ride up there a couple summers ago. It was my last summer as a camper, before the last baseball coach finished grad school and got a real job and they recruited me to take his place. I got Warrick to take me up there to get a present for my mom's birthday. I guess I was feeling a little homesick." Nick paused and let out a sheepish laugh, and Greg smiled again. It was kind of comforting, imagining a guy like Nick getting homesick. Not that Greg really missed California, but maybe it was even harder to be homesick for the very place where he found himself. "Olaf came in with a box of his carvings while we were there, and I bought a bird for my mom. She has this thing about birds. He talked to me for a few minutes. I think he got a kick out of the idea of one of his carvings going all the way to Texas."

Greg smiled at that; it was exactly the kind of thing Papa Olaf would have gotten a kick out of, and if he was around now he would have gotten an even bigger kick out of that same kid from Texas teaching his grandson from California how to play baseball. "Small world," Greg said, more to himself than to Nick.

"Yeah," Nick answered anyway, then his hand was back on Greg's shoulder, fingers splayed possessively and Greg was pretty sure he meant it to be comforting, but it felt like something completely different. "You ready to go back? We should change those bandages now that they're soaked."

Greg nodded and stood up, reaching for his shirt and pulling it back on before he stood up. When he looked up again Nick was watching him, but when their eyes met Nick just smiled and reached for his boots. They pulled on their socks and shoes in silence, then Nick slung his shirt over his shoulder and led Greg back up the path to the clearing. They stopped at the tractor and Nick pulled out the first aid kit, opening it on the seat and letting Greg lean against the tractor while he pulled the wet bandages off.

"They look better," Nick said, fingertips sliding across the damaged skin on Greg's palms. He sucked in a sharp breath at the feather-light touch, hoping it was dark enough in the woods to keep Nick from noticing the color burning in his cheeks.

"Probably the lake water," Greg murmured, and his voice sounded kind of breathy. "Papa Olaf used to say it was magic."

Nick smiled and looked up at him, still holding Greg's hand and for the second time that day Greg was almost sure Nick was going to kiss him. Time stopped and he could feel his heart pounding in his ears, so loud he was sure Nick would hear it. Then Nick shook his head and looked away, and Greg was almost positive there was a blush spreading up the back of his neck.

He cleared his throat and reached for the antibiotic ointment, focusing on Greg's hands as he bandaged first the right, then the left. He didn't look at Greg again until he was finished, and when he finally did look up all Greg got was a tight-lipped smile. "We better get back or we'll miss out on lunch."

Before Greg could answer Nick was turning away, tugging his shirt back over his head as he headed up the path, and Greg let out a heavy sigh before he followed.

~

Things changed between them after that. Nick was still friendly, still shouted encouragement when Greg was up at bat and still recruited Greg to help him take the firewood back to camp and unload it. But he didn't touch Greg anymore, and the few times he mentioned Greg's hands it was just to remind him to stop by the infirmary and get Tina to change the bandages. They still laughed and joked around as they worked, holding long debates about the merits of Space Invaders versus Zaxxon, which wasn't even a valid comparison, as far as Greg was concerned, but Nick stubbornly refused to budge from his stance that Space Invaders would go down as a classic. But Nick never asked him if he was okay in that way that invited Greg to spill all his secrets, and any time they found themselves grinning at each other a little too long, Nick was the first to clear his throat and look away.

Greg knew he should have expected it, and every time Nick backed off again he kicked himself for wanting something he wasn't going to get. Still, he wasn't the one sending out mixed signals all over the place, so as far as he was concerned it was Nick's problem.

That didn't make it any easier to be around him, especially when Greg found himself staring at Nick's hands and remembering the feel of that thumb moving against his bare skin while he poured his heart out by the lake. He found himself thinking about it at the weirdest times, like when he was going through the line at dinner, or when he was lying in his bunk staring up at the words 'Nick was here' and wishing he wasn't in a room full of seven other guys.

They were loading the trailer for what felt like the millionth time when Greg straightened up, wincing at the pain in his back and looking over at Nick. "Hey, did you ever stay in Warrick's cabin?"

"It wasn't his cabin then, but yeah," Nick answered. "Why?"

"I think we got the same bunk," Greg said. "'Nick was here, 1986'?"

Nick grinned at that, and Greg's heart skipped a beat at the smile he hadn't seen in days. "I forgot all about that." He shrugged and tossed one last log on the trailer before he swung the gate shut. "Guess it's a rite of passage. You carve your name up there yet?"

"I'm not sure that bunk can take any more," Greg answered as they climbed into the tractor. "I'm pretty sure the next guy who carves his name up there is going to bring the thing crashing down on him."

Nick laughed and pulled onto the service road, guiding the tractor over the rough surface with the ease of long practice. "Some things are worth the risk, you know, G."

"Yeah," Greg agreed, watching the lines of Nick's face as they relaxed into an easy grin. "Some things are."

He half expected Nick to shut down again, to start talking about baseball the way he did whenever they got too close to that line he didn't want to cross. Instead Nick looked over at him, grin shifting into a smile that Greg would have described as shy if he didn't know better. Then he shook his head and turned to look out at the road again, but the smile stayed in place all the way back to camp.

~

Not that he'd ever admit it, but Greg rode the high of a single smile for a full week after that conversation. It didn't even matter than Nick mostly went back to talking about baseball after that, because he kept grinning at Greg every so often, like they were still laughing at some joke only the two of them were in on. His heart pounded harder in his chest every time Nick smiled at him, and he knew he was smiling back like some kind of moron. If any of the guys in his cabin noticed they didn't mention it to him, but they mostly still ignored his existence anyway, and Greg was fine with that. All they ever talked about was sports and girls, as far as he could tell, and it wasn't like he had much to add to either of those conversations.

He panicked a little at the end of the second week, half expecting them to get reassigned to a new job that didn't involve Nick's cabin. But on the first morning of their third week there was no announcement about a change of assignment, and when Warrick led them all down the same path toward the lake Greg was glad no one hung back to catch him grinning like an idiot.

He worked side by side with Nick for another week, parting company only long enough for lunch and sometimes a quick shower before they met up again at the baseball field. And it wasn't normal, spending all his time hanging out with a counselor instead of making friends with the other campers. He knew he was supposed to be hanging out with the guys in his cabin, teasing the girls and placing bets on who'd get to third base before the summer was over. But none of those guys was anywhere near as interesting as Nick, and he was pretty sure there was no one in the entire state who could match Nick in the looks department.

So he ignored the pointed looks he caught from the guys in his cabin every so often and kept following Nick around, and Nick didn't complain. In fact, he seemed to like Greg's company as much as Greg liked his, so there was no reason to worry about what anyone else thought.

The third week melted into the fourth, and suddenly it was the end of July and they were still working side by side six days a week, clearing brush and firewood and digging around tree roots in an attempt to level the ground enough to build a pair of outhouses. Greg was sweating and wrestling a tree root onto the trailer when he heard Sara calling Nick's name. He looked up in time to see Nick drop the shovel he'd been using to dig around yet another tree root. He watched as Nick crossed the clearing and said something to Sara, then reached for the axe she held out.

Greg knew Sara had spent the morning working on getting a particularly stubborn tree root out of the ground, and he'd talked to her enough in the past three weeks to know it was probably killing her to admit defeat. Nick must have known the same thing, judging by the smile on his face when she rolled her eyes at him. He lifted the axe over his shoulder and swung it down into the dirt, taking a quick step backwards when the force of the blow threatened to knock him off his feet.

Greg watched as he braced his feet a little wider apart, swallowing hard as he watched the muscles in Nick's legs flex. He was lost in the image of those legs wrapping around him when Nick swung the axe up again, bringing it down with a grunt and another, harder bounce, then somebody screamed and Nick hit the ground.

He fell in slow motion, or at least that was how it seemed to Greg. One minute he was swinging the axe down toward the tree root, then he was falling backwards as though the force of the blow had pushed him off his feet. Except that one of the girls was screaming like somebody was dead, and Sara was shouting for Warrick and the other girls' counselor. Greg's stomach twisted when he looked at Nick's leg and saw the axe sticking out of it, balanced at a crazy angle like it was a prop from a low budget horror movie.

Everything happened in fast forward after that. He remembered being shunted out of the way by Sara as Warrick and the other counselor -- Sofia, Greg was pretty sure her name was -- half-dragged, half-carried a screaming Nick to the tractor. They propped him up on the trailer between tree roots and what was left of the cordwood, then Sofia climbed in after him. Warrick threw open the tractor door and climbed in, firing up the engine and Greg thought vaguely that he should go with them, but before he could remember how to move the tractor was pulling onto the service road and disappearing from sight.

"Okay, everybody back up to camp," Sara shouted, and distantly Greg registered the way her voice trembled. He knew he should turn around and follow her, maybe even help round everybody up and get them moving. The rest of the campers were probably freaked out; Nick was one of those guys that everybody loved, after all, and even though Greg liked to pretend he was special, he was pretty sure Nick made a lot of people feel that way. It wasn't until he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders that he realized he was still standing next to the spot where the trailer had been a minute ago, and when he looked up Sara was watching him with a mixture of fear and what he suspected was pity in her eyes.

"Greg, come on, we have to get back," she said, easing him toward the path where he could just see the rest of the campers disappearing.

"Yeah, okay," he heard himself say, letting her lead him across the clearing and back to camp.

~

It came as no surprise when they canceled activities for the afternoon. Everybody was more or less ordered back to their cabins after lunch, and anybody who asked about Nick was told that they'd all hear when there was something to tell. All the counselors were trying to act like it was no big deal, like it looked so much worse than it was and any minute now Nick would walk through the dining hall door, laughing at what a klutz he was and showing off his wound. Except that they all looked kind of pale and shaky, laughing just a little too loud to sell it. Even the camp director, Catherine, looked totally freaked out, and considering the first thing Greg had learned about her was that her nickname was 'The Ice Queen', he figured she was hard to shake.

He drifted back to his cabin with the rest of the guys, but after half an hour of lying on his bunk, staring up at Nick's name carved above him while the guys relived the accident, he couldn't take any more. After the third time one of them said, "Man, did you see the way the axe was just sticking out of his leg? I swear I could see his bone," Greg climbed out of his bunk and headed for the door.

He didn't really have a destination in mind other than _away_, but he wasn't surprised when he found himself on the path that led down to the lake. He walked as fast as he could, carefully avoiding looking at the clearing where they'd spent the past three weeks working. He didn't slow down until he reached the edge of the woods and stepped onto the shore of the lake, kicking his shoes off and digging his toes into the soft sand at the edge of the shore. He sat down and wrapped his arms around his knees, staring out at the water and remembering the last time he'd been here.

Telling Nick all that stuff about Papa Olaf hadn't been part of the plan. He wasn't sorry, though, especially when Nick told him about meeting Olaf and telling him one of his carvings was going all the way to Texas. Greg smiled at the memory, imagining the way his grandfather must have smiled at Nick, the way his chest probably puffed out with pride at the idea. And it wasn't like his carvings weren't already in other states; Greg had plenty of them in his room, but it wasn't the same as a total stranger picking one out and giving it to someone he loved.

Greg stared out over the lake, wondering idly how long it would take to swim across it. He wondered if he could even make it; he was a strong swimmer, but it was a pretty big lake, and he'd never tried to swim more than it took to catch a really big wave. If he had his surfboard he could make it. He could just paddle across the lake, and eventually he'd reach Papa Olaf's little wooden dock and pull himself out of the water. He'd fish the spare key out from under the flower pot by the back door, let himself in and curl up in the middle of his grandfather's big bed and just sleep until all of this went away.

Except when he woke up Papa Olaf still wouldn't be there, and Nick would still be...where, Greg didn't even know. The hospital, he guessed, the same one where his grandfather had died after a massive coronary. He wasn't worried that Nick was going to die or anything. The accident was bad, sure, but they'd rushed him back to camp right away and gotten him into Warrick's truck and driven him right to the hospital. So he wasn't worried that Nick would bleed to death the way some of the girls had been whispering on the walk back to camp. But he wasn't sure Nick would come back, and the idea of not seeing him again bothered Greg a lot more than it should.

Because Nick was hot, sure, and he was nice and cool and easy to talk to, but they weren't really friends or anything. Nick just felt sorry for him, that was the only reason he let Greg hang around him. The fact that Greg wasn't too proud to take what he could get was his problem, not Nick's.

So it shouldn't bother him that Nick might not come back. It shouldn't make the idea of the next month at camp seem unbearable, but there it was.

He wasn't sure how long he sat there staring at the water, but when he finally got up to leave the path through the woods was a lot darker than it had been on the way down. He picked his way carefully along a path he knew pretty well by now, stumbling here and there on tree roots. He'd done this enough times as a kid to know there was nothing in these woods to be afraid of, but he still shivered a little when an owl hooted somewhere in the trees overhead.

It took him longer than it should have to get back, and by the time he reached camp he knew he'd missed dinner. Not that he was hungry; mostly he just wanted to go to sleep and not wake up until he was back in California and this whole weird dream was over.

The rest of the guys were there when he let himself back into the cabin. They were all sitting on their bunks staring at Warrick, and when Greg saw him his heart stopped and then started right up again in double time.

"Where the hell have you been?" Warrick asked, and Greg didn't know for sure, but he had a feeling it was more worry than anger making his voice sound rough.

"I went for a walk. Guess I lost track of time."

"I'll say," Warrick said, but he didn't read Greg the riot act for staying out past curfew or missing dinner. Instead he waited until Greg sat down on his own bunk, then he started talking again. "Like I was saying, Nick's going to be okay. They had to go in and repair some tendons, and he'll probably spend the rest of the summer on crutches, but other than that he's going to be fine. They're keeping him in the hospital for awhile, and he'll come back some time next week. So there's nothing to worry about," Warrick added, gaze drifting toward Greg as he said it. "Everybody try to chill out and get some sleep, okay?"

A few of the guys started talking over each other as soon as Warrick was done, asking questions about Nick's injury and pestering Warrick for details. Greg just pulled his jeans off and pulled on a pair of sweats, dropping his shirt on the floor with his jeans before he climbed into his sleeping bag and settled back on his bunk. He pulled out his Walkman and put his headphones on, letting Metallica drown out the voices of his cabin mates until he finally fell asleep.

~

Nick didn't come back until Tuesday. On Monday at dinner Catherine stood up and called for silence, then she said, "I know most of you were expecting to see Nick back by now. The good news is that he's doing fine. The bad news is that the folks at the hospital like him so much they decided to keep him around another day."

She allowed herself a rare smile at the ripple of laughter that went around the room. When it died down she said, "The truth is there was a little complication with the amount of blood he lost, but his doctor is confident he'll be fine to leave tomorrow. We'll be keeping him in the infirmary for a couple days, just to make sure he keeps himself out of trouble. I know some of you will be tempted to visit, but you're to leave him alone and let him rest, okay? Your counselors will keep you posted on how he's doing."

There was a general murmur from the campers, though whether they were plotting to sneak in anyway or agreeing to Catherine's conditions, Greg couldn't tell. He didn't really care; he already knew what he was doing as soon as Nick got back to camp, and nobody was going to stop him, not even the camp director.

~

It was such a colossally simple plan that Greg couldn't believe it worked, even after he found himself in the infirmary. He helped load and haul and level ground all morning on Monday, then he went to lunch with everyone else and took a quick shower before baseball practice. And maybe he spent a little longer in the showers than he really needed to, but that just guaranteed the cabin would be empty by the time he finished changing. He put on a pair of shorts and pulled on his Vans, careful to leave Nick's batting gloves safely in his cubby for the first time since Nick lent them to him.

The area around the cabins was pretty much deserted; most everyone was at their activity already, and Warrick had told Greg on Sunday that Sara would be taking over baseball until Nick was back on his feet. She was probably already at the field, maybe even splitting the kids into teams for a game. Probably no one had noticed yet that he wasn't there, but he hurried anyway, skirting the edge of the woods behind the cabins until he spotted what he was looking for. When he caught sight of it he looked around to make sure no one was watching, then he ducked into the woods.

His blisters had healed a couple weeks ago, and in their place were the hard beginnings of calluses, so he couldn't use his hands as an excuse to get into the infirmary. Greg remembered the feel of Nick's calluses on his skin, and somehow the memory gave him the resolve to go through with his plan. He took a deep breath and reached for the vine, hesitating for just a second. "Right. Here goes nothing," he said, then he closed his fingers around the plant and pulled a few leaves free. He rubbed them along his arms, then his neck and his legs. He steered clear of his face, but when he was finished he rubbed his hands together and lifted his shirt to run one across his stomach.

When he was finished he stepped back out of the woods, checking once more to make sure no one was watching before he headed for baseball practice.

Two days later he turned up at the infirmary with the worst case of poison ivy Tina had ever seen.

It would have been funny, watching her eyes get so big she looked like a cartoon character, except that he was itching too much to enjoy it. The cot was already occupied by the very Greek god Greg had been hoping to see, so Tina pushed him down into the chair by her desk and ran for the Calamine lotion. When she came back she just stared at him for a minute, then she unearthed some cotton balls and started soaking them in Calamine.

"How...what...my God, don't you know what poison ivy looks like?" she asked, hands sort of fluttering around him like she wasn't sure where to start. Or maybe like she was afraid to touch him.

Greg just shrugged and reached for the bottle of Calamine and some cotton balls. He dabbed the pink liquid on the raised red rash covering his left arm while Tina started working on his right. "We only have Poison Oak in California."

"Leaves of three, let it be, man." Greg glanced over at the familiar sound of Nick's voice, and when he saw Nick's knowing smile he at least had the grace to blush. "That's the cardinal rule of summer camp."

"Guess I missed the memo," Greg answered, but he was grinning a little too cheerfully for someone who looked like he'd been rolling in a field of poison ivy. Tina didn't notice; she was too busy gasping at each new section of rash she uncovered, dabbing hopelessly at his skin until finally he looked like he'd taken a bath in Pepto Bismol.

"You can't go back to your cabin," Tina said as she straightened up and cast another despairing look at him. "I've never seen a rash this bad. I'll have to get someone to bring another cot in."

"He can have mine," Nick said, starting to push himself into a sitting position.

"In your dreams," Tina snapped, glaring at him until he rolled his eyes and settled back against the pillows. As soon as she was gone he was right back to grinning, though, watching as Greg dabbed at a few stray spots with the Calamine.

"The guy who's spent every summer of his life on this very lake doesn't know what poison ivy looks like. Haven't you ever heard the expression 'less is more'?"

Greg shrugged again and looked up from the spots on his stomach. "Haven't you ever heard 'if you're going to do it, do it right'?"

That got him a laugh, and wow, he hadn't realized how much he missed the sound.

"You're nuts, G, you know that, right?" Nick said, but his grin totally ruined the effect.

"So you keep telling me," Greg answered, grinning right back at him. It had been four long days since he'd seen that smile, and it was worth the miserable rash if it meant he got Nick all to himself for awhile.

~

"Damn, hang on," Greg said, throwing down his cards on Nick's cot and dashing across the infirmary for the bottle of Calamine. He wrenched the top off and poured some on a cotton ball, pressing it to the burning itch on his left arm with a relieved sigh.

"Maybe not the best idea you've ever had, huh?"

"Shut up," Greg said, scowling over his shoulder at Nick. All it got him was a laugh, but it was pretty hard to stay mad at Nick when he laughed like that. Besides, he was right; Greg had probably taken it a little too far. The worst of it was his stomach; somehow the rash was even more irritating there than anywhere else, and he winced and tugged his shirt off to reapply Calamine to the angry patch of red around his belly button.

"Seriously, G, that looks terrible. Are you sure you shouldn't have a doctor look at that? Tina's great and all, but you might need antibiotics or something."

"It's not as bad as it looks," Greg lied. The truth was it hurt _exactly_ as much as it looked like it did, but it also meant he'd spent the past three days in the infirmary with Nick, playing cards and talking about nothing and laughing at Nick's dumb jokes and lying awake at night itching while he listened to Nick snoring softly in the cot across the room. It was...nice. Weird and painful and sometimes a little awkward, but kind of nice, all the same, and he wasn't about to give up quality time with Nick over a little poison ivy rash.

He twisted his torso to try to reach the few irritating spots he'd managed somehow to get on his hip, just out of his line of sight. He still wasn't sure how that happened, but he had a feeling it had something to do with not bothering to wash his hands before he went to baseball practice. He was just lucky he hadn't touched anybody else during practice or they'd probably have company in the infirmary.

"Come here," Nick said, and Greg swallowed hard when he looked up to find Nick watching him. He crossed the room and handed Nick the Calamine and a fresh cotton ball, sitting on the edge of Nick's cot with his back to Nick.

"Thanks," he said as he felt the first press of cool liquid to the spots on his hip. Nick's fingers brushed his skin as he worked, and Greg flashed back to that day at the lake, when Nick's hand had stroked down his back like he couldn't stop himself from touching.

"I shouldn't be helping you," Nick said, voice a little rougher than usual and the sound went straight to Greg's dick. "It's your own damn fault, I should just let you suffer."

"You're too nice to let me suffer."

Nick made a noncommittal noise that made Greg smile, and he was glad Nick couldn't see his expression. He'd implied that Greg was kind of an idiot at least a dozen times since Greg landed himself in the infirmary, but he'd never once said that Greg shouldn't have done it. He hadn't said that if Greg wanted to see him, he could have just asked Warrick or Sara or even Catherine. He'd never once said out loud that he knew _why_ Greg had done it, but it was clear that he knew as well as Greg did that it was the only way Greg was getting in here.

It didn't matter that Greg was Nick's pet project and everybody at camp knew it. There was a big difference between knowing something and saying it out loud, and the minute anybody admitted it, they'd have to admit that there was more going on here than just a counselor taking a kid under his wing. Greg wasn't some little kid, for one thing. Then there was the way Nick looked at him, like he couldn't decide whether he wanted to kiss Greg or just protect him from the big, bad world. It didn't help that Greg hadn't even tried to hide his crush, and he was pretty sure the only reason he hadn't gotten his ass kicked by his cabin mates was because none of them would ever believe Nick might feel the same way about Greg.

Greg didn't really blame them. He still had a little trouble believing Nick might feel that way about him, even while he was sitting shirtless on Nick's cot, trying really hard to control his breathing while Nick used the Calamine as an excuse to keep touching him.

His palm flattened against the center of Greg's back, far away from the few stray spots of poison ivy rash. He let his hand run up Greg's spine, fingers curving around Greg's neck to rub at the tension there.

"How's your leg?" Greg asked, the question ending on a little sigh as Nick's thumb dug into a spot of tension at the top of his spine.

"Hurts like a son of a bitch," Nick answered, and when Greg glanced over his shoulder Nick smiled at him. "It's been good, having you around. The distraction helps. And the fact that no matter how lousy I feel, you have to feel ten times worse. I think I'd take an axe through the leg any day over this."

Nick's hand trailed back down his spine, sweeping over the stray spots on his back and curving around his hip, fingers sliding across the rash on Greg's stomach. He felt a shudder ripple through his stomach, making Nick's fingers tremble on his skin, and Nick had to know what he was doing. It was the worst kind of torture and Greg knew he had no intention of following through, but all the same he hoped Nick wouldn't stop any time soon.

The second he thought it Nick's hand was gone, and when Greg looked over his shoulder again Nick was leaning back on his pillow, eyes closed tight and his hand on his forehead. Greg looked down at the spot where Nick's hand had been, fingers tracing the skin on his own stomach. For a long time he'd tried to convince himself that Nick was straight and oblivious, but now...he couldn't make himself buy that anymore.

"Hey, G?"

"Yeah?" Greg said, looking back over his shoulder to find Nick watching him.

"How come you don't hang out with any of the guys in your cabin? They can't all be that bad."

Greg shrugged and turned around to stare at his hands again. "All they ever talk about is sports and girls."

"Well, I know how you feel about sports already, so I guess that leaves girls."

Greg shrugged again and stole another glance at Nick. When their eyes met he felt the same familiar tremble in his stomach, but he held Nick's gaze as he answered. "Girls are okay, I guess."

"G..."

He couldn't tell by the way Nick said it if he was planning to let Greg down gently, or if he was asking...permission or something. He wasn't going to find out, either, because before Nick said anything else the infirmary door opened, and Greg stood up so fast he almost knocked the bottle of Calamine over.

"Shit," he muttered as he grabbed for it, not looking up to see if Tina was watching him suspiciously as he crossed the room to put the bottle away.

By the time he worked up the courage to turn around again, Nick's eyes were closed and Tina was sitting at her desk, filling out forms. Greg swallowed a sigh and sank onto his own cot. He knew better than to think he'd be able to sleep, and he had a feeling he wasn't the only one pretending.

~

Nick got out of the infirmary before Greg did. Tina cleared Nick to go back to his own cabin on Friday morning, but she made Greg stay through the weekend, 'just in case'. Granted, he was still itching when she finally let him go on Monday, but it was nowhere near the distracting levels he'd lived with for the first five days.

His rash had gone from an angry red to mostly just a few scaly patches of skin here and there, and when he walked back into the cabin most of the guys looked more surprised that he didn't look worse than that he was back.

He hadn't seen Nick since he left the infirmary on Friday, but when they showed up at the clearing to start construction on the outhouses Monday morning, there he was. It was obvious he'd gotten a ride down in the tractor, and Greg didn't see how he could be much use on the project with his crutches to drag around, but he wasn't complaining.

"See you're starting to look human again," Nick said when Greg stopped next to him.

"I see you're still a cripple," Greg shot back, glancing at the unwieldy white brace on Nick's leg. "Does it still hurt?"

"Some," Nick answered, his grin fading at the memory of their last conversation about his leg. "Listen, Greg…"

"Sanders, get over here," Warrick called, and Greg glanced over his shoulder to see Warrick watching them.

"Duty calls," Greg said, pulling his work gloves on as he backed toward Warrick.

He could feel Nick's eyes on him as Warrick put him to work hauling lumber for the outhouse, but he ignored it and focused on the project. He already knew what Nick wanted to say: that he was sorry, but nothing could happen, that Greg was too young, the usual bullshit. He just didn't need to heart it, and he wasn't going to give Nick a chance to say it if he could help it.

~

Avoiding the speech turned out to be pretty easy. Sara was still coaching baseball, though Nick turned up to sit on the bleachers and shout encouragement or advice every afternoon. There were too many people around for Nick to bring it up when they were sitting on the bleachers, so Greg could sit right next to him when his team was up to bat and know Nick wouldn't even try.

And maybe that made him a coward, but he didn't really care. They only had a few weeks left of camp, after all, and then they'd both go back to their own lives and there wouldn't be any reason to say what they both already knew. So he spent as much time as he could with Nick, but he always made sure there were enough people around to keep him from saying anything he couldn't take back.

Nick showed up at the project site some mornings, but there wasn't much he could do while he was stuck with the crutches, so mostly he stayed at the camp and drove Catherine crazy. At least that was what Greg overheard Warrick telling Sara one night at dinner, but when they noticed him in line behind them they shut up pretty fast.

Even when he did show up on the project, he didn't try to talk to Greg alone again. Mostly he just cast glances at Greg every so often, like he was trying to work something out and somehow Greg had the answer. The only thing Greg knew was that he didn't know anything, but he didn't bother telling Nick that. Instead he just smiled whenever their eyes met and went back to hammering boards to the outhouse frame or holding a door while one of the other guys attached the hinges.

And it was weird, but it felt kind of good to be part of something. He'd never built anything with his own two hands before; he was great at science and math and he could even write a pretty solid English paper, but he'd failed at carving and he'd never even tried to build something.

Putting together an entire building – even if it was just a set of outhouses – felt…well, kind of amazing. The rest of the guys in his cabin had stopped treating him like he didn't exist, at least as far as the project went. They still talked about sports and girls all the time when they were in the cabin, and he still stayed out of their conversations for the most part. But they saw that he wasn't completely useless on the project once he had the right equipment, and it felt pretty good to prove something to them, too.

By the time they finished and moved on to a new project it was the middle of August. Summer was almost over, and Greg had mostly managed to stop thinking about the cabin that was standing empty on the other side of the lake. He hadn't forgotten about Nick, though, or the way he'd touched Greg in the infirmary -- like he meant it, even if he tried to take it back.

They still hadn't talked about it, and as far as Greg was concerned there was nothing to say. Nothing he wanted to hear, anyway, and maybe it was selfish, but Greg didn't really care. There were barely two weeks of camp left, and if all Greg was going to get was an occasional unguarded smile and a clap on the shoulder, he'd take it. Maybe that was pathetic, but it was still better than the 'it's not you, it's me' speech.

It was the middle of the second to last week of camp when Nick didn't show up at the baseball game. Nobody asked Sara where he was, and she didn't volunteer the information, so Greg kept his mouth shut and pretended he didn't notice.

They didn't have to wonder what happened to Nick for long. They were all in the dining hall for dinner when Nick showed up, still moving slow on his crutches, but minus the ugly white brace he'd been wearing since his surgery. Warrick walked in behind him, and first Nick's cabin, then the rest of the dining room burst into a round of applause. Nick blushed and took an awkward bow, but it was obvious his leg was still pretty stiff from all the time he'd spent with it wrapped up.

If they were alone Greg might even convince Nick to let him rub some of the tension out. He'd done as much for Greg, after all, that day in the infirmary. He was still imagining Nick leaning back, breath coming faster as Greg worked out the soreness in his leg, when the kitchen doors swung open and Sara and Sofia appeared carrying an enormous cake.

In the middle of the cake was a bloody axe, and the whole dining room burst into laughter and applause as they carried the cake over to Nick's table. There were candles and everything, and when they started singing Greg realized that it was Nick's birthday. He watched as the back of Nick's neck turned red, imagining the heat in his skin and the way it would feel against Greg's fingers.

"Make a wish," Sara said, and it was clear that she was teasing, but Greg couldn't help wondering what Nick wished for as he blew out his candles. Part of him expected Nick to look over his shoulder at Greg, but he didn't turn around. He just grinned and blew out the candles, then he let Sara cut the cake and start passing pieces around.

It was awhile before the party broke up, before people stopped seeking Nick out and wishing him a happy birthday or congratulating him on getting rid of the brace. He smiled at every one of them, but Greg could see how tired he was getting by the way his shoulders sagged a little further every time someone new stopped in front of his table.

Greg thought about going over to add his birthday wishes to everyone else's, but he didn't want to watch Nick's shoulders sag because of him. Instead he stood up with the rest of his cabin, dragging his feet on his way out of the dining hall. He followed the guys out onto the porch, pausing when he reached the top stair. It was the spot where he'd run into Nick that first day; it didn't mean anything, but now that it was almost over he wanted to remember every detail.

He was still standing there when the door opened again, and he looked over his shoulder in time to watch Nick shoulder the door open and stump through it on his crutches.

"Hi," Nick said, and something about the way he said it made Greg think Nick knew he'd be waiting. And he had been waiting, only he didn't know it until Nick walked through the door.

"Hi."

Nick tilted his head toward the lawn beyond the dining hall, away from the cabins. "Feel like a walk?"

"How far can you go on those things?" Greg asked, but he fell into step beside Nick anyway, letting Nick lead him toward the barn.

They rounded the barn to the far side, toward the wood pile they'd stacked during the first few weeks of camp. When they reached it Nick stopped, leaning heavily against the wood and pulling his crutches to one side.

"How's it feel?" Greg asked, nodding toward Nick's leg. "Freedom, I mean."

Nick glanced sideways at him and grinned, and Greg's heart skipped a beat. "Itches like crazy."

"I know the feeling."

Nick laughed at that, and Greg's chest tightened when he realized how much he was going to miss that sound.

"You didn't tell me it was your birthday." Like he had a reason to. Like Greg had any right to expect Nick to tell him anything.

Nick shrugged and turned to face him. "Guess I've had other stuff on my mind."

"Well, happy birthday, anyway."

He looked over at Nick, and when Nick didn't look away Greg swayed forward. He gave Nick plenty of time to pull away, to put the brakes on and tell Greg thanks, but no thanks. Only Nick didn't try to stop him, he didn't stand up and reach for his crutches or even ask Greg what the hell he thought he was doing. Instead he just leaned in a little, and Greg got a split second to admire Nick's smile close up before Nick was kissing him.

It took Greg by surprise, which was kind of stupid, considering he was the one who'd started it. But he'd expected Nick to stop him, so when their lips pressed together it took a second for his brain to catch up. When it did he reached up, hand on the back of Nick's neck to stroke his fingers through soft hair. His lips parted on a sigh, mouth moving slow as though he could make it last forever if he just took his time.

Nick let him lead at first, hands at his sides like he still wasn't sure this was the right thing to do. And any second now Greg knew he was going to come to his senses and push Greg away, so he wasn't surprised when a hand closed around the front of his shirt. Except instead of pushing him away Nick tugged him closer, his free hand landing on Greg's waist to hold him steady as Nick sucked Greg's bottom lip between his teeth. He could hear Nick breathing heavy through his nose, teeth sinking into Greg's lip just hard enough to send a shiver of desire straight to his cock. Greg's fingers flexed on the back of Nick's neck, tightening in his hair for a second before he forced himself to loosen his grip.

He could hear himself murmuring against Nick's mouth, but his brain was too caught up in a constant loop of _ohgod**finally**_ to worry about what he was saying. All he knew was Nick's mouth moving against his, Nick's tongue soothing the spot on his lip where his teeth had been a few seconds ago, and Nick's hand fisting so hard around the front of his shirt that there was no way it wasn't going to be wrecked. Not that Greg cared, because Nick was kissing him like he wasn't planning to take it back. Even if it was just this one time, there was no denying that he wanted this too, and that was enough. It would have to be, because camp was almost over and Greg was pretty sure he wasn't going to get more.

Way too soon Nick pulled away, sucking in a sharp breath and then letting out a shaky laugh. His forehead was pressed against Greg's, hand leaving his hip to cup the side of his face like he couldn't stop touching. Like he didn't _want_ to, even though he knew he should. "We can't do this, G."

"Why not?" Greg asked, breath hot against Nick's mouth and when he turned far enough to brush their lips together again, Nick didn't fight him.

"Well, I'm a counselor, for one," Nick answered, but he still wasn't moving.

"Give me a break, it's like Lord of the Flies in this place. What, just because you're two years older than me, that qualifies you to be responsible for, like, protecting my innocence?"

He felt Nick's laugh on his cheek, felt it under his fingers where Nick's body shook with it. The sound made his heart clench so hard he stopped breathing for a second, but he still didn't pull away. He figured as long as they were still touching, maybe there was a chance Nick would figure out a way to talk himself into this instead of trying to talk Greg out of it.

"I just turned nineteen, Greg."

"Fine, so, two and a half years. Big deal."

"The big deal is you're sixteen. That makes you a minor. Not to mention we're both guys; even Catherine's not that cool. I could lose more than just my job here. If your parents found out..."

"My parents support me no matter what. They're fine with me dating guys."

Which, okay, maybe that was a little bit of a stretch. They weren't really in love with the idea, but every time he called them on it they claimed it was because they worried about how hard the rest of the world was going to make things for him. Which was bullshit, as far as he was concerned, but they still wouldn't have Nick arrested just because he was a guy.

"Look, it's not about our age difference or whether or not you can handle yourself," Nick said, and this time he did pull away. Greg let him, because it wasn't like he had much choice. He stared over Nick's shoulder at a firefly blinking in the dying light, watching it get further and further away. This late in the summer they were almost gone, and suddenly Greg wished he'd paid more attention while they were still around to put on their show.

"There are rules, and I promised I'd abide by them. Maybe if we'd met someplace else, but...look, in a week you'll go back to California and you'll meet somebody at school and you'll forget all about me."

There were a lot of things he could have said that would have been complete bull and would have boiled down to the fact that Nick was scared. There were a lot of things Greg would have let him say, things he would have gone along with because what else was he going to do? But he wasn't going to sit there and let Nick tell him this was just a crush and he'd forget all about it as soon as he got home. He wasn't going to let Nick pretend _he'd_ forget it that easily, not when Greg knew better.

"Fuck you, Nick," Greg said, standing up and stumbling back out of reach. "Tell yourself whatever lies you want about why you're blowing me off, but don't tell me how I feel. I don't need your help figuring that one out."

He heard Nick calling his name, figured he was probably fumbling with his crutches in a futile attempt to follow Greg. It probably wasn't fair to take advantage of his injury and ditch him like that, but Greg didn't really care. He'd heard all he needed to hear, and now he just wanted to get far enough away from this place to forget he'd ever heard of it.

~

Greg was smart enough not to try to leave before lights out. The guys in his cabin still mostly ignored him, sure, but even they'd notice if he tossed his bag on his bunk and started packing. So he waited until everyone was settled in for the night, then he waited until Warrick shut off the lights and told them all to get to sleep, then left for wherever he went after lights out. Greg figured he spent most of his free time flirting with Tina, but the counselors probably had meetings at some point too. So he waited some more, while the room around him buzzed with whispered conversations about today's game or tomorrow's project or who'd made out with which girl. Greg let the sound wash over him without really listening; he focused instead on the memory of Nick's mouth on his, Nick's hand on his face and his fingers digging into Greg's hip. He pictured Nick's face when he told Greg they couldn't be together, then when Greg called him on his bullshit. _Good, he deserved it,_ Greg thought when he remembered the flash of hurt in Nick's eyes. And he did; Nick was a coward, and if he couldn't handle it that was his problem.

He closed his eyes against the memory and waited for the buzz of conversation to die down. It felt like hours passed before the rest of the guys finally fell asleep, but when the only sound left was steady, even breathing, he slipped out of his sleeping bag and started packing his things. He didn't need much; just a few clothes, his Walkman, and his wallet. Not that he had much money, but he had enough for a few days' worth of food, and he figured it wouldn't be much longer than that before somebody figured out where he was. By then camp would be over, and he wouldn't have to come back here and see Nick again.

He took one last look around before he let himself out of the cabin, searching the darkness for any sign of counselors doing bed checks before he set out into the darkness. Greg had no idea how long a walk it was to the cabin, but he figured as long as he followed the lake he'd make it there eventually. He tiptoed past the dining hall, keeping out of the light still streaming through the windows. There were voices coming from inside and he figured some of the counselors were hanging out in there, comparing notes or talking about what they were going to do when the summer was over and they were finally free.

Nick probably couldn't wait for the summer to be over, Greg thought, swallowing a bitter laugh at the thought. Well, tomorrow when he figured out Greg was gone he could breathe a lot easier for the last week of camp. So really Greg was doing both of them a favor.

He made it to the road without being seen, and he briefly considered taking the path down to the lake and just following the shore until he found his grandfather's place. He'd spent enough summers in these woods to know that was a pretty stupid plan, though, so he set off down the road in the direction of town and hoped it wouldn't take him too far out of his way. Anyway, passing through town would give him a chance to pick up some supplies, and they got enough tourists up here to keep him from attracting much attention.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking -- half an hour, maybe a little more -- when he heard a car on the road behind him, and he stepped off the pavement to let them pass. Turned out it was a truck, and as it pulled up next to him Greg recognized it. He considered making a break for it; if he stayed put and argued his case, Warrick was going to drag him right back to camp eventually. But when the passenger door swung open it wasn't Warrick leaning across the seat to look out at him.

"Get in," Nick said.

"Forget it, I'm not going back," Greg answered. He glanced down the dark road and wondered how long Nick would follow him if he just ignored him and walked away.

"Greg, I know where you're going, man. Let me give you a ride, at least."

He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell Nick to go to hell. What he _didn't_ want was to sit next to Nick in Warrick's truck and ignore whatever speech Nick had planned while he drove them around the lake and then tried to drag Greg right back to camp. But Greg had no idea how long it was going to take to walk there; the truth was, he wasn't even sure if he was going in the right direction. He let out a sigh and tossed his bag into the cab, climbing in after it and pulling the door closed.

"If you try to take me back to camp I'll just leave again."

"If you want to go nobody's going to make you stay," Nick said. "But you can't take off in the middle of the night by yourself. Catherine's responsible for you, you could get her in a hell of a lot of trouble."

"Yeah, I'm pretty good at that." Greg cast a glance at Nick, but his face was cast in shadow and it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. "How'd you know I left, anyway?"

"I saw you on your way past the dining hall," Nick answered. "Relax, I didn't tell anybody else."

"So what are you going to tell them tomorrow when they figure out I'm gone? Are you going to tell them you helped me make a clean getaway, or are you going to play dumb?"

Nick shrugged and slowed down, turning on his left signal even though they hadn't seen another car since he picked Greg up. He turned onto another dark road and pointed the truck north, and Greg realized that Nick actually was going to take him where he wanted to go.

"Guess I'll figure it out tomorrow."

~

They drove in silence for awhile, Nick staring out at the road and Greg watching the dark woods roll by. When they passed the general store where Papa Olaf used to sell his carvings Nick took another left, still following the lake. Greg had traveled this road more times than he could count as a kid, and even in the dark he knew exactly where the turn-off was. "Here," he said, pointing at a driveway a few yards ahead of them. "That's it."

Nick slowed down and turned into the driveway, rolling down the gravel drive until they pulled up in front of a small wooden cabin. It was painted dark green, and there was no light coming from the building. Greg wasn't even sure they'd bothered to turn the electricity on this season; his family still owned the cabin, but his mother didn't seem all that interested in coming back here, and she hadn't rented it out like some of the other cabin owners on the lake.

Greg climbed out of the truck, not bothering to check whether or not Nick was following before he headed around the back of the house. The lake was shining in the moonlight, still and massive and Greg swallowed hard against the lump that rose in his throat. He picked his way across the lawn to the back porch, lifting the flower pot by the door and feeling around until his fingers connected with metal. He picked up the key and fitted it into the lock, pushing the cabin door open and stepping inside. He was reaching for the lights when he heard the porch door open again, and the lights came on just as Nick caught the back door with a shoulder and maneuvered his crutches through the doorway.

He'd never really been the shy type. It had always seemed like a waste of time to him, clamming up around somebody you liked when you could be using that time to show them exactly why they should like you right back. And it wasn't like he didn't know Nick, so there was no reason to be shy around him now that they were completely alone. But they _were_ alone, and even though Nick had only driven him out here so he could be sure Greg was safe, he had no idea what to say.

"Thanks for the ride," Greg said at the same time Nick said, "Nice place." Nick grinned sort of sheepishly, and Greg wished he didn't still find that so irresistible. He wished he wasn't smiling right back at Nick instead of telling him to get out and leave Greg alone with the memory of his grandfather.

"Why are you here?" he said instead, hating himself as soon as the words escaped his lips, because he knew the answer and he didn't really want to hear Nick say it.

"I told you, I couldn't let you just take off by yourself."

"Right, I forgot about your overblown sense of responsibility. Don't worry, when my parents read me the riot act for taking off and interrupting their plans, I'll let them know you made sure I stayed safe."

As soon as he said it he wished he could take it back. Not because Nick was looking at him like Greg had just hit him -- that part he sort of enjoyed. But he could hear the words coming out of his mouth, and he knew he sounded exactly like the little kid Nick thought he was.

"Come on, G, that's not fair," Nick said, and Greg hated him a little for being right. "I know you can take care of yourself. I just...I thought you could use some company, that's all."

He wanted to say that he didn't need any company, that the last person he wanted here with him was Nick. But it was a lie, and if he said it Nick would probably leave, and then Greg really would be alone. So he just shrugged and looked around the living room, taking in the layer of dust on the furniture and the reminders of his grandfather scattered around the room.

The TV remote was sitting on the arm of his grandfather's chair, right where it had been every time Greg visited for as long as he could remember. There were some magazines on the coffee table, the latest issues of _Woodworking_ and _Reader's Digest_ that he hadn't gotten around to reading before he died. The living room opened into the kitchen, and sitting next to the drain Greg could see his grandfather's favorite coffee mug perched on the counter, like any second now Papa Olaf was going to walk in and start making coffee.

"I wasn't sure the lights would work," he said, and he knew it sounded stupid, but when he looked up he could tell Nick knew what he was trying to say. The corners of his eyes stung and he looked away, glancing down the narrow hallway that led to the bedrooms.

Greg turned away from the living room and walked down the hall, glancing in the room he always slept in when he visited. When his parents came to stay they slept on the pull-out in the living room, so the last bedroom had always been Olaf's. It was at the end of the hall, just past the bathroom, and when Greg reached it he felt his hands start to tremble.

He pushed open the door anyway, reaching for the light switch and bathing the familiar room in the soft light of the bedside lamp. The bed looked exactly the way he remembered: big and soft, covered in a patchwork quilt his grandmother had sewed a whole lifetime ago, long before Greg was born. There was a rocking chair in the corner that his grandfather had built when Greg's mother was born, and on the table next to the bed was an elaborately carved wolf.

It had been there for as long as Greg could remember, and whenever he asked about it Olaf told him it was the guardian of Wolf Lake. He sat down on the edge of the bed and reached for the carving, picking it up and turning it over to trace his fingertip over the initials carved in the bottom.

He didn't hear Nick follow him into the room, but when the mattress dipped next to him Greg let himself lean into the comforting warmth.

"It's beautiful."

"It's older than me, I think," Greg said, glancing up at Nick to smile. "Not that that's saying much, I guess."

Nick smiled back at him then, and when Greg felt a hand land on his neck he leaned into the touch. Nick's fingers curved around him, strong and warm and comforting. He reached out with his other hand and gripped Greg's chin, tilting his head just so before he leaned in and pressed their lips together.

Maybe it was pity; Greg wasn't sure. At the moment he didn't care, because Nick was kissing him and he hadn't expected that to happen ever again. Greg sighed into the kiss and groped behind him for the nightstand, managing to set the wolf carving down before he reached out and closed his hand around the front of Nick's shirt.

He wasn't sure which of them moved first, but the next thing he knew he was on his back on his grandparents' patchwork quilt, and Nick was still kissing him like he needed Greg to breathe. One hand pushed through Greg's hair, tracing the patterns that were starting to grow out on the side Wendy had shaved all those weeks ago. His other hand found Greg's and threaded their fingers together, hands pressed to the mattress as Nick kissed him like his life depended on it.

Like he was trying to prove a point. Maybe he was.

"I don't care how old you are," Nick said, the words warm against Greg's skin as he kissed his way down Greg's jaw. "If we were at school I would have asked you out the second I saw you swing a bat the first time. You have to know that, G. It's bad enough I've been coming up with every excuse in the book just to be around you."

"I thought," Greg said, his voice coming out breathy and a little strained as he lifted his chin to give Nick better access to his neck, "I thought maybe…you felt sorry for me."

Nick laughed against his throat, low and deep and sending hot shivers down Greg's spine. "I feel sorry for _me_. Do you know how hard it's been to keep my hands off you?"

"Yes," Greg said without hesitation, because on that point there was no argument. "I never meant to tell you about Papa Olaf or the cabin or any of it. You have this, like, _effect_ on me."

"I'm glad you told me," Nick said, lifting himself up so he could look Greg in the eye. "I'm glad I knew where to look for you tonight."

"Yeah, me too."

Greg slid a hand around Nick's neck and tugged him forward, leaning up to meet Nick in a slow kiss. He took his time, memorized the way their mouths fit together and the way Nick's hand felt pushing up under his shirt. Nick's fingers splayed across his stomach, warm and strong and tracing the edges of the scars the poison ivy had left behind. His stomach trembled again, just like it had the last time Nick touched him there, but this time Nick didn't pull away. Instead he shifted until their chests were pressed together, settling into the v of Greg's legs and pulling back just long enough to search Greg's face. Whatever he was looking for, he found it pretty fast, because before Greg had a chance to complain Nick was kissing him again, hard and insistent and God, so hot Greg was sure he'd melt right into the mattress.

There was probably something weird about doing this here, in his grandparents' bed. When Nick's hands slid up his sides to hitch his shirt up over his chest Greg decided he could live with weird.

His hands pushed between them, fumbling with the button on the front of Nick's jeans. Nick moaned into his mouth, teeth sinking into his bottom lip and sucking until Greg was moaning and pushing up into him. He managed to tug Nick's jeans open, and when Nick lifted his hips and shoved his jeans and underwear down his thighs Greg scrambled for his own zipper. His board shorts were easier to deal with, and together they managed to work the fabric down until they were skin to skin. It wasn't Greg's first time, exactly; he'd fooled around a few times with a guy he met at the beach last year, but mostly that was making out and the occasional grope under a deserted pier. This was the first time he'd ever been skin to skin with someone else, and when Nick licked his palm and reached down to wrap his hand around Greg's dick, he had to bite down hard on his lip to keep from coming.

Nick's mouth was moving on his chest, tongue sliding across first one nipple, then the other. He sucked a kiss into the skin just below Greg's collarbone, not letting up until Greg was panting and pressing up into him. All the while his hand was moving on Greg's cock, thumb sliding across the head to drag drops of wetness back down Greg's dick with each downstroke.

"Nick," Greg said, over and over until it became a sort of mantra: _NickNickNick_, panting out a rhythm in time with Nick's hand. Nick's own cock thrust against Greg's hip, leaving a trail of wet heat with each push of his hips until they were both panting and tugging harder at each other to try to get more and closer and _now_.

Greg had administered exactly one more or less successful hand job in his life, if he could define 'successful' by a couple tentative strokes before the guy came in his hand. At the time he pretended the guy's lack of stamina had everything to do with Greg being irresistible and nothing to do with the amount of time they'd spent making out before Greg worked up the nerve to touch him, but deep down he knew better. So he didn't have a lot of experience to back him up here, but he didn't want to do all the taking and none of the giving, either. He sucked in a harsh breath and lifted the hand that had been gripping Nick's shoulder hard enough to leave marks, then reached down to wrap his fingers around Nick's cock.

Nick groaned into his shoulder, teeth grazing Greg's skin as he thrust into Greg's grip. "Yeah, like that," Nick grunted, voice low in Greg's ear as Nick mouthed his way up Greg's neck. "Jesus, Greg...harder."

As he said it he tightened his own grip on Greg, jerking him fast and rough, like he was showing Greg what he wanted. And yeah, Greg could get behind that. He tightened his grip and bent his wrist, trying to find the right angle to move in time with Nick's hips. It was awkward and he wished his arm wasn't half trapped under Nick's body, but his brain was on overload and even if he remembered how to move, he wasn't sure he could. He could feel the tight burn of _want_ deep in his belly, hips bucking off the mattress to fuck the circle of Nick's hand and he heard Nick whispering to him again, vague words like 'yeah' and 'just like that' and 'that's it', and finally 'come on, baby' and in a million years he'd never admit it, but in the end it was the 'baby' that dragged him over the edge.

He was still panting when he felt Nick's hand slide across the slick mess on his stomach, then Nick slid off him and stretched out on his side next to Greg. He opened his eyes when Nick reached for his hand, sliding wet fingers between his and wrapping both their hands around Nick's cock. Nick surged forward to press their lips together, Greg panting against his mouth as Nick thrust into the circle of their hands. It was messy and intense and over way too soon, and way before Greg was ready for it to end Nick was coming on their fingers and Greg's stomach and pressing quick, frenzied kisses to the corner of Greg's mouth.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, Nick panting and sticky and Greg dipping his head to bury his face in Nick's shoulder so he could put off dealing with whatever came next. Way too soon he was being pushed backwards, eased onto the mattress and against his will his eyes fluttered open to look up at Nick. He watched while Nick sucked his fingers clean, then reached for Greg's hand and sucked each of Greg's fingers into his mouth too. He took his time with each one, tongue pushing into the soft skin between Greg's fingers and sending waves of pleasure through his whole body. He could feel his cock stirring again already, and when Nick let go of his hand and kissed his way back down Greg's chest, Greg thought vaguely that he could die right now and be just fine.

Nick licked his stomach clean, tongue dipping into his belly button and making Greg buck up off the mattress. He heard a low chuckle and felt his face heat up, but if Nick noticed him blushing he didn't comment. Instead he marked a trail down the center of Greg's stomach with his tongue, pausing when he reached the head of Greg's quickly hardening cock to suck at the tip. Greg fought to keep his hips on the mattress, but when Nick's tongue teased the slit of his cock he bucked up again. Strong hands flattened on his hips to push him down into the mattress, then Nick was swallowing him whole, tongue working the vein at the bottom of Greg's cock and his mouth hollowing around Greg to suck him dry.

It was definitely Greg's first blow job experience, and however great he'd imagined a blow job could be, this was ten times better. A hundred times, because Nick's fingers were pressing him into the mattress, calluses rough against his skin, and Nick's tongue was doing things to his dick he'd never even thought about before. And the noises he was making -- wet and dirty and God, so hot -- sounded way too loud to Greg's ears, but they were nothing compared to the sounds coming from Greg. He was begging, but for what he didn't even know. The words coming out of his mouth weren't even English, and when he heard himself whine -- fucking _whine_ \-- Nick laughed around his cock and pulled him over the edge for the second time.

He had just enough time to say, "Nick, gonna..." because he'd read somewhere that you should give a guy some warning, reached down with the hand that wasn't twisting his grandmother's quilt into a hopeless mass of wrinkles to grasp uselessly at Nick's shoulder. But Nick just kept going, pulling off a little to work his mouth around the head of Greg's cock until he let go with a sigh and filled Nick's mouth.

When Greg came to Nick was licking him clean all over again, mouth loose and gentle on his too-sensitive dick. He pulled off slowly, pressing kisses to the hollow of Greg's hip bones, then his stomach and back up his chest to Greg's mouth. He tasted like salt and bitter and...well, Greg, he supposed, and it wasn't as gross as Greg expected. Then again, it was Nick, and not only had he just made Greg come _twice_, but he was kissing Greg like he really couldn't think of anywhere else he'd rather be right now. So Greg did the only thing he could do: he kissed Nick back with everything left in him.

~

It was still dark out when Greg woke up, but he could see the beginnings of predawn light streaking the sky outside the window. Nick had pulled off their clothes and turned off the lamp at some point, and they were curled together in the center of the bed, the quilt thrown over them and Nick's arm slung loose around his waist. He turned his head just a little, trying to catch a glimpse of a strong jaw or brown hair without actually waking Nick up, but as soon as he moved, Nick's arm tightened and he felt a kiss brushed across his shoulder.

Greg reached down to cover the hand resting on his stomach with one of his own, threading their fingers together and staring down at them. "Did you mean that, earlier?"

Nick's sleepy laugh made warmth bloom in the center of his chest, and if he hadn't already known he was screwed, that would have clued him in. "Mean what?"

"When you said you'd ask me out. If we were at school together."

For a second there was silence, then another brush of Nick's lips, on his temple this time. "Yeah, G, I meant it."

"Oh."

"Would you say yes?"

"You're kidding, right?" Greg asked, and when he felt Nick's chest rumble against his back he had his answer.

"So your parents are really cool with you being into guys?"

Greg shrugged, using the movement as an excuse to burrow a little closer to Nick. "More or less. I mean, I'm their only kid, I guess they figure they can't disown me completely. What about your parents?"

"Are you kidding?" Nick said. "My old man would cut me off so fast it would make your head spin. But there are seven of us, so he probably figures he could afford the loss."

"Nick, I..."

"Forget it," Nick interrupted, and Greg could tell he didn't want to hear the word 'sorry'. Greg couldn't really blame him, because it wasn't like Greg had anything to be sorry for. It wasn't his fault Nick's father was an asshole, and there wasn't anything either of them could do to change it. But Nick let him turn until they were face to face, and when Greg pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth Nick turned into it.

"We have to go back, G," Nick said when they came up for air. His hand was in Greg's hair, fingers moving along the shaved section like he couldn't get enough. Like he didn't want to stop touching, and that made it even harder for Greg to answer.

"Yeah, I figured you were going to say that eventually."

"I can't make you go." Nick's hand left his hair to curve around his cheek, thumb tracing his lips like Nick was trying to memorize him. "If you want to stay here I won't try to stop you. But I want you to come back with me."

The idea of another whole week over there, seeing Nick every day and knowing what his arms felt like around Greg, what his mouth felt like on Greg's skin -- on his dick -- and not being able to touch seemed like torture. It _was_ torture, but somehow knowing they were both being tortured made it a little easier to live with.

"I'll go," Greg said. "There's no food here anyway."

Nick smiled at him, leaning in for another kiss before he pulled away and sat up to reach for the crutches he'd left propped at the end of the bed. Greg took his time pulling his clothes back on and straightening the bed, fingers trailing over the lamp and the wolf carving and even the rocking chair as he took one last look around the room. He was almost through the door when he thought better of it, and he turned and crossed to the table next to the bed to pick up the wolf again. It wasn't big; just a little too big to fit in his palm, and Greg slipped it into his bag when he reached the living room.

"Ready?" Nick asked, Warrick's keys hanging from one hand as he leaned heavy on his crutches.

Greg crossed the room and dropped his bag on the floor at Nick's feet, then he leaned in and kissed him. It was soft and easy and _right_, and when he pulled away again Nick was smiling at him. "Yeah, I'm ready."

"Good. You have your license, right?"

"Yeah," Greg answered, frowning suspiciously when Nick handed him the keys. "Why?"

"Think I overdid it a little," Nick answered, turning away from Greg to push himself through the door. "My leg's killing me. You're gonna have to drive."

~

The sun was up by the time they got back to camp. Most of the camp was in the dining hall for breakfast, and Greg took advantage of the lack of prying eyes to stow his stuff in his cabin before the rest of the guys came back and started asking questions. He didn't linger by Warrick's truck mooning over Nick or hoping for one last kiss; he knew it couldn't happen, but knowing that Nick wished it could was almost as good.

When he got to the dining hall he caught sight of Nick talking to Warrick, the two of them huddled in a corner by the back of the room. Warrick glanced at him when Greg walked in, then Nick followed his gaze to look at Greg. For just a second Nick's expression softened, and Greg looked away as he felt the heat creep up his neck. He headed for the food line and grabbed a tray, willing himself not to look back at the two of them as he got his breakfast and made his way over to the table where the rest of his cabin was seated.

He could feel them all looking at him when he sat down, probably wondering where he'd been that morning when they woke up. But they all thought he was a weirdo anyway, so it wouldn't hurt if they kept thinking it for another week. Greg kept his eyes on his breakfast, pushing eggs around his tray and trying not to relive the previous night in embarrassing detail. He was so busy trying not to think about it that he didn't notice Warrick sitting down across from him until Warrick cleared his throat. Greg started and looked up, cheeks flushed as he tried to decide how much Warrick knew.

"Everything okay?" Warrick asked, eying him like he wasn't really sure whether or not to believe whatever Nick had just told him.

"Yeah, everything's fine," Greg answered. And everything wasn't fine, but there was nothing Warrick could do about it, so there was no point in telling him what he didn't want to know.

"Good. We're assigned to a new project today. We're spending the last week down at the lake, clearing debris from the storms they had up here this spring."

Greg nodded and turned back to his breakfast, pretending to eat until Warrick finally took the hint and went away. He had no idea what Nick had told Warrick, but whatever it was, he hoped Warrick bought enough of it to just let it go.

~

The last week of camp passed in a blur. They spent their mornings at the lake, but it was just Greg's cabin and one of the girls' cabins. Nick's cabin was assigned to some other project, and he figured it was probably for the best. It was still kind of weird going down to the lake, but his chest didn't ache quite so much anymore when he looked across the water and remembered what was on the other side.

Nick still showed up at the baseball field every day, though he was still letting Sara do most of the coaching. The first day Greg found him there he slid onto the bleachers next to Nick, making sure the rest of his team was focused on the game before he nodded at Nick's leg. "How's it feel?"

"Better," Nick answered, and a hand landed on his shoulder and squeezed. Reassuring, like Nick was making sure he knew they hadn't done any permanent damage.

"Do they think it'll be okay by the time you have to report for training or whatever?"

"Yeah," Nick said, flexing his leg on the bench below him as he spoke. "There's no permanent damage, so it shouldn't affect my game."

It was the first time Greg had really considered Nick's college career and what the injury could have done to his baseball scholarship. Wendy had accused him of being selfish plenty of times over the years, but he'd never really agreed with her until now.

"I guess I didn't even think about that. I..."

"G, it's okay. I'm fine," Nick said, and when Greg looked up Nick was grinning. His heart skipped a beat and he had to clear his throat and look away before he did anything really stupid, like maybe sway forward into Nick's personal space and kiss him until he couldn't breathe.

"So what'd you tell Warrick?" Greg asked, looking back out at the field as the second person on his team struck out.

"I told him you were having a hard time with losing your grandfather, and you needed to talk."

Greg didn't bother to mention that he wasn't a hundred percent sure Warrick believed that story. It was partly true, sure, but there was a lot more to it and judging by the glances Warrick had been casting in his direction all morning, Greg was pretty sure he'd figured that out. He hadn't tried to talk to Greg about it again, though, so Greg figured he didn't really want to know.

"Thanks," he said, glancing back at Nick long enough to smile.

"Just don't tell Rick I let you drive his truck and we're even," Nick answered. He grinned and slapped Greg on the back. "You're up, by the way. Go hit one out of the park."

He didn't hit it out of the park, but he did manage to get on base for the first time all summer. The last batter got tagged out on the first base line and the inning ended with no score, but when Greg looked up Nick was grinning at him like he was the best thing Nick had ever seen. He figured that was better than a home run any day.

~

The night before the buses rolled back into camp to take everyone to the airport or the bus station or wherever they were headed, the whole camp gathered on the lawn by the barn for a bonfire. The guys in Greg's cabin started talking about it a couple days before it even happened, lying in their bunks after lights out and reminiscing about other end-of-summer bonfires, who told the best ghost stories, and who'd gotten to what base with which girls in the dark after the bonfire was over. Greg mostly didn't pay attention, but he followed the guys down to the lawn on the last night of camp anyway, hanging back while they all muscled their way to the front and taking a seat near the back of the circle.

Dusk was falling by the time they got there, and sparks from the fire lit up the air as Greg sank into the grass and wrapped his arms around his knees. Someone had a guitar -- of course, because there was no way he was escaping the summer without witnessing that cliché -- and they were already strumming the melody of one of those camp songs everyone but Greg probably knew the words to. He watched as Warrick carried a load of the firewood he and Nick spent most of the summer stacking over to the fire, dropping it within reach so they could keep feeding the fire.

Someone was passing a bag of marshmallows around the circle, and Sara passed out sticks that had probably been gathered from the woods earlier that day. It was one of those scenes straight out of a movie, and if Greg wasn't sitting right in the middle of it he wouldn't believe that people really did this kind of thing. He'd been to a few bonfires on the beach back home, but nobody ever roasted marshmallows or sang folk songs. Mostly they just drank a lot of cheap beer or passed a joint around, and that had never really been Greg's scene.

Someone stopped next to him and Greg looked up to find Nick standing there, sliding his crutches out from under his arms before he dropped into the grass next to Greg. He set his crutches down in the grass beside him and stretched his injured leg out, leaning back on his hands and grinning at Greg. "Wasn't sure I'd see you here."

Greg shrugged and leaned back on his hands until they were almost shoulder to shoulder. "Not much else to do around this place."

Nick laughed at that but didn't answer. He just turned toward the bonfire, watching as Sofia and Sara organized a round of some song everybody seemed to know the words to. They didn't even sound half bad, but Greg was still glad he'd stuck to the back where nobody would try to bully him into singing along. He glanced over at Nick, watching the light catch in his eyes as he grinned at the crowd around the campfire. He was still looking when Nick glanced over at him, smile softening when their eyes met. It only lasted a second, then Nick was turning back to the bonfire, but Greg felt a hand cover his own where it rested in the grass, and he looped his fingers through Nick's and held on.

He wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, entwined hands hidden in the grass while the rest of the camp sang songs and laughed and ate marshmallows until their stomachs ached.

"I can go toast one for you if you want," Greg said, nodding toward where Sara was passing out fresh bags of marshmallows.

"Let me guess, you just set them on fire and let them burn," Nick said.

"That's the only way to do it," Greg answered, but he grinned when Nick laughed and shook his head.

"Thanks, G," he said, and the pressure on Greg's fingers tightened for a second. "But I've got everything I want right here."

Greg couldn't really say the same. He couldn't lean over and kiss Nick, couldn't feel that smile curving against his skin and those hands in his hair. He couldn't pull Nick back to lie in the grass with him, arms tight around him while they stared up at the stars. If they were in California at one of the beach bonfires with Greg's friends, he'd be able to stand up, to tug Nick onto his feet and drag him into the dunes for some privacy. Sure, his friends would give him shit about it later, but at least it wouldn't be because he was with a guy.

"You ever been to California?" Greg asked, venturing a nervous glance at Nick.

For a long moment Nick just looked at him, then he shook his head and looked back at the fire. "That an invitation?"

"Just a suggestion," Greg answered, letting Nick off the hook if he wanted. "I think you'd like it there."

Nick smiled into the darkness, but he didn't let go of Greg's hand. "I'll keep it in mind."

~

The next morning passed in a rush of activity, most of which consisted of everybody in camp shoving the belongings they'd spent a whole summer scattering around their cabins into their bags as quickly as possible. Greg took his time packing and rolling up his sleeping bag, mostly because there was no one for him to rush to say goodbye to. The only person he wanted to see...well, he was probably busy controlling the chaos in his own cabin, and Greg wasn't counting on seeing Nick at all, let alone getting a chance to say anything.

He wasn't even sure what he'd say if he did get the chance. He'd more or less laid his cards on the table the night before when he practically invited Nick to come visit, and wouldn't his parents love that. But Nick hadn't said no; he hadn't looked at Greg with those big brown eyes, all sad and serious like he was telling a little kid there was no Easter Bunny. He hadn't said yes, either, but Greg had always been an optimist, and he figured where there wasn't a flat-out refusal, there was a chance he'd get a 'yes' eventually.

Greg lingered over breakfast while the rest of his cabin bolted their food and took off, making the rounds to other tables to drag various girls away from their own friends for tearful goodbyes. Well, the girls were mostly crying, but the guys were mostly hoping for one last makeout session before they all piled onto the buses. Not that he could blame them; he'd be doing the same thing if he could, and he wouldn't care who was watching.

By the time Greg finished eating and took his tray up to the kitchen, the dining hall was mostly empty. He took one last look around, but Nick wasn't waiting to get him alone. Not that Greg expected him to take a chance like that; at the most he'd probably get a clap on the shoulder and a friendly 'hope we see you again next summer'. They'd said their goodbyes last night -- at least as well as they could -- when Nick sat with him and risked his job to touch Greg one last time. It should have been enough for Greg, and it was, mostly. But he couldn't help wishing that he could find Nick and pull him away from whoever he was talking to and kiss him until he was breathless.

He walked slowly back down to his cabin, letting himself into the quiet room and crossing to his bunk. The rest of the guys were all still saying their goodbyes back on the lawn, so Greg took advantage of the momentary privacy and sat down on the bare mattress covering his bunk. He glanced up at the sea of initials he'd been staring at all summer, searching until he found the name he was looking for.

When his gaze fell on the words _Nick was here_ he grinned and ran a finger over the letters he'd touched a thousand times. Then he fished a pen out of his bag and found an empty spot as close to Nick's name as he could, scratching 'GS + NS' into the wood. And later he'd feel kind of stupid about it, but he scratched a lopsided heart around their initials anyway.

He ran his fingers over his work and stood up, dropping the pen back in his bag and reaching down to pick it up. The cabin door opened and Greg glanced up to see which of the guys had come back first, but what he saw made his heart stutter to a halt. He froze halfway to picking up his bag and watched as Nick stumped across the wooden floor on his crutches, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Thought maybe you were trying to get out of saying goodbye."

Greg lifted one shoulder in a shrug and dropped his bag back on his bunk. "I figured you were busy. I was going to find you before I left, though. I need to give you back your gloves."

He reached into his pocket and pulled out Nick's batting gloves, holding them out as Nick stopped in front of him. Nick glanced down at them without reaching for them, then looked back up at Greg. "Keep 'em. You're getting better; who knows, maybe you'll decide to try out for your school team."

"Fat chance," Greg said, but he pocketed the gloves anyway and turned to dig through his bag again. "I...I wanted to give you this, too."

When he held out his hand this time Nick did reach out, fingers skimming the head of the ornately carved wolf before he pulled it out of Greg's grip. "Greg, I can't take this. Your grandfather..."

"I want you to have it," Greg said, heart pounding hard in his chest as he watched Nick tracing the lines of the carefully carved fur at the base of the wolf's neck. "Seriously, I've got a bunch of them at home already. It's no big deal."

Nick looked up then, and he didn't have to tell Greg that he knew it was a lie. Only it wasn't, not really. It was just a statue, after all, and he really did have a whole shelf full at home. But this one had been part of his life for as long as he could remember, and he liked the idea of Nick taking it to college and putting it in his dorm room and thinking of this summer whenever he looked at it. Thinking of Greg and a little cabin on Wolf Lake and the night of his nineteenth birthday. And yeah, okay, he'd probably think about camp too, but those memories would be all tied up with Greg now too.

"Thanks," was all he said, and it was all Greg could do not to take a step forward until they were breathing the same air. And he was pretty sure he didn't move, but a second later Nick was closer anyway, so close Greg could feel hot breath on his cheek. Then Nick leaned in, eyes bright with questions he wasn't asking but Greg was pretty sure he already knew the answers to anyway, and pressed their mouths together. It barely lasted a second; just a brief press of Nick's lips against his before he pulled back, over before it even began. But even after he moved away to a safe distance Greg could feel Nick there, and he knew he'd spend the entire flight home pressing his fingers to his mouth and remembering.

"Here's my address at school," Nick said, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket with his free hand. "You can write and invite me to California."

"Would you say yes if I did?"

Nick grinned and swung backwards on his crutches, inching toward the door. "Of course, G. You've still got my lucky gloves."

He didn't look back when he reached the door, just pulled it open and shouldered his way through. A second later he was gone, leaving Greg standing alone in the cabin with a pair of batting gloves and an address for a dorm at Texas A&amp;M. It didn't mean anything; chances were they'd write a few times, then Nick would get caught up in college life or meet some guy on campus, and Greg would become some kid he'd helped out at summer camp once. But Nick wanted him to write, and maybe, just maybe the end of what had turned out to be a pretty good summer could become the start of something even better.

**Author's Note:**

> Summer camp was more or less a rite of passage for kids in my generation, at least in New England. I gather that it is not as popular as it used to be, but in the mid- to late 80s, many parents paid good money to send their kids out into the woods for a couple weeks every summer. Who can blame them, really.
> 
> The camp I went to was faith-based, but we were Episcopalian, so mostly that just meant chapel in the morning and the evening, and a whole lot of shenanigans in between. For middle school and high school kids, summer camp meant work camp. The stories about clearing trails and building outhouses are all true facts from my childhood. (Chad's remark about it being fun? Also true. Go figure.) Also fact is the axe through the leg, though the counselor who managed that one was named Joel, not Nick. Work boots were indeed required to wield an axe, but they did not protect Joel from himself.
> 
> Joel's birthday did happen to fall during the summer, and they did make him a cake with a bloody axe in the middle of it. He was delighted.
> 
> The rest of the stuff is made up. Well, no, the boys did talk a lot about the girls, and there was plenty of post-bonfire (and post-chapel!) making out at The Brow, which was the top of a hill which led down to the girls' cabins. But I never made out with anyone, least of all a counselor, and I certainly never gave myself poison ivy in order to get an older boy's attention (though I am just as allergic as Greg.)
> 
> The idea for this fic started in the wee hours of the morning on a road trip from Minnesota to Louisville, Kentucky. My friend Rachel was riding shotgun, and we fleshed out the beginnings of this idea during that long, long trip. I filled in the rest over the past week. I can't say how I managed to write nearly 30,000 words in four days, and while it is not my best work, prose-wise, I certainly enjoyed it. I hope you did too. Thanks for reading.


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